


The Truth of the Dark

by SuPerwaNderer



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Canon Era, Dom!Cas, M/M, Rough Sex, Top Castiel/Bottom Dean Winchester, Wing Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-28
Updated: 2016-01-28
Packaged: 2018-05-16 18:46:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 22
Words: 38,790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5836639
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SuPerwaNderer/pseuds/SuPerwaNderer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This story is set around 5x18. All Destiel, all the time. Basically, Sam figures out that there's something going on between his brother and our favorite angel in the dark and he's so not ready to find out what.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Beginning

Sam was getting very upset with Bobby, questioning him as to where the hell Adam had gotten to. With a rush of air and the sound of fluttering wings, Dean and Castiel appeared in the living room to their left. Sam looked over, startled. Castiel was supporting a bloody, bruised, unconscious Dean. He had his arm around his waist and his other hand holding Dean’s arm that was slung around his shoulders.

“What the hell happened to him?” Sam demanded, gesturing at his brother. His eyes had grown wide in panic, a worried look on his face.

“Me.” Cas replied solidly, he turned toward the taller Winchester and glared daggers at him, as if daring him to ask further. When Sam pursed his lips and raised his hands in surrender, the angel carefully moved himself and Dean over to the bed underneath the window in Bobby’s living room. He laid Dean down gently, pausing for just a second, so quick that if Sam had blinked he wouldn’t have caught it, before he turned once again to face the hunters in the doorway. “The angels have Adam.” He said simply and, with a flutter of wings, was gone. Sam turned to Bobby who shrugged, looking lost for words. He ran his hand through his hair and let out an exasperated sigh.

 

* * *

 

 

Dean awoke on the bed in Bobby’s living room, head throbbing. He tried to sit up but the blinding pain in his ribs reminded him of the beating he had received earlier on in the evening. He flopped back down, desperately gulping air as though he had been running; he slowly moved his head to the left to look out the dark window. He seethed in silence, hating everything that made this his life. He hated everything, but he could hate nothing more than the hatred he felt for himself. Why hadn’t stupid Cas just left him to his own devices? He turned his head back up to look at the ceiling; he had just come to the realization that it was pitch black and silent inside as well as outside. Moving at a snail’s pace, he turned his head to the right to inspect the living room and didn’t find a sign of life.

“Sammy?” He called out into the darkness. No response. “Bobby??” Still nothing. He took a deep breath and slowly rolled onto his right side, jaw clenched, trying to stomach the pain. When he reached his destination, he let out a long, shaky, breath, taking a small break before trying to sit up. He felt a shimmer of sweat pool over his forehead as he looked over at his right hand, which was handcuffed to the bed. “Son of a bitch.” He muttered, feeling fresh anger roll through him. “ANYONE?!” he yelled, his own gruff voice reverberated through the empty house, and back to him, causing a fresh wave of pain through his head. When there was still no response he rolled back onto his back, gritting his teeth at the agony.

“Dean.” Came a gravelly, familiar voice from the shadows in the corner of the room. At hearing his name Dean snapped his head to the right, pain searing through his head, causing him to hiss and silently curse himself.

“What Cas?! Come to finish the job?” He demanded, when his head was back down to a dull throb.

“No.” replied the angel flatly.

“Then what?” Dean asked, rather forcefully. “You made your point, and the handcuffs really drive the nail in hard.” He positioned his head back to stare at the ceiling, not missing the look of almost boredom on Cas’ face.

“It’s your brother,” He paused, searching for the right words. “Bobby tells me that Sam stormed off after I – left – after dropping you off here.”

“Wish I could help, but I’m kinda tied up at the moment.” Dean replied sarcastically, glaring up at the ceiling, he lifted his right hand up as far as he could before it caught and the metal clanged against the metal bedframe. In truth, the statement hit him hard, causing his insides to writhe with worry for his stupid little brother. What possible reason could Sam have had for disappearing into the night? Unless, he was going to try to find Adam. Dean shook that thought right out of his head, there’s no way Sam would be that dumb.

“I know, I’m the one who fastened the handcuffs to you.” Dean heard soft footsteps approach where he was lying, and he looked over to see Cas standing over him. Moonlight shone a ghostly blue light on the angels face, making him look gaunt. His eyebrows were knitted together and his lips held a slight frown. He stared down at Dean, eyes cold as ice. “You’ve ruined everything Dean Winchester. You forced Sam to drink that demon’s blood by treating him like a child,”

“No.” Dean whispered, “I didn’t know!” Castiel bent down so that his face was hovering just inches over Dean’s, breath hot in his face. He brought up a hand and clamped it down over Dean’s mouth, effectively silencing him and reminding Dean of the time he had convinced the angel to help him. That first day in the beautiful room when the angel began to doubt. His look of boredom didn’t waver as he spoke again.

“Bobby stabbed himself to kill the demon inside him so he wouldn’t hurt you,” he hissed pressing his hand harder into Dean’s mouth. He felt his teeth begin slicing the inside of his lips, as the warm iron taste of blood flooded his mouth. “And I – I rebelled. For you. I did it, all of it, for you.” He paused, a glimmer of sadness passed behind those deep blue eyes before being snuffed out and replaced by a look of pure hatred and wrath that Dean had only seen once, and that had been while he was getting his face bloodied. “And you tried to ruin _everything_.”

Castiel gripped his face harder and Dean felt his teeth being slowly pushed out of his gums. He screamed into Castiel’s hand and tried to turn his head from the agony, but Castiel had a superhuman grip and it was all Dean could do to clench both fists as he felt the first tooth snap and fall into the back of his throat. He choked, feeling another snap and fall. Raw panic spread through him as he desperately flung his left hand out to punch, scratch, anything, but it was useless. He felt his hand connect, but the look on the angel’s face told him he was not fazed. Dean couldn’t breathe, his throat was full of teeth and blood. He felt darkness overtake him and the last thing he saw was Cas’s intensely blue stare. Then all was dark.


	2. The Dream

Sam woke with a start, cold beads of sweat running down his face and chest. He had been having nightmares about Cas turning and hurting Dean before, but he had never endangered his life before. He rubbed his teeth, wincing at the thought of them being pushed out of place. After carding a hand through his hair and sighing, he got up and went downstairs.

He nodded minutely after seeing that his brother was safely chained to the bed in Bobby’s living room. He started for the kitchen when he remembered his dream. After a moment’s hesitation he walked the distance to the bed in three strides and bent down over his sleeping brother, lifting up his top lip slightly to ensure his teeth were still intact. Dean groaned and rolled his head to the side, eyes snapping open in confusion. Sam quickly withdrew his hand.

“Dude, what the hell? What’re you, my dentist now?” Dean scrambled backward into a sitting position at the head of the bed, he covered his mouth with his hand, feeling violated.

“No Dean, I was just,” Sam paused, he rubbed the back of his neck, unsure what to say. “Checking.”

Dean looked at him dubiously before shaking his head and swiping a hand over his face. He brought his legs over the edge of the bed, rubbing the last bit of sleep out of his eye, with a clang he realized his right hand was still handcuffed. “Any chance I can get these damned things off? I’d like to get up and do stuff today.” He read the hesitation on Sam’s face and continued. “Look, I’m not going to run off and give my body to a dick angel, okay?”

“Okay,” said Sam, shaking his head. He walked over to the bookshelf behind the desk and reached up over top of it, feeling around in the dust for a tiny metal key “So, what happened with you and Cas yesterday?” He said, feeling the pads of his fingers skim over something small. He grabbed the key and turned around to face Dean, nodding at the shiner his brother sported. “He got you pretty good, didn’t he?”

“Yeah, I guess you could say that.” Dean replied, he chuckled nervously as his face flared red. He was looking at a spot just over Sam’s shoulder when he smiled and licked his lips seemingly unconsciously. “Speak of the Devil.”

“Hello Dean. Sam.” Said a deep, gravelly voice from behind Sam, making him start. He spun around to be faced with the formerly mentioned angel. “And I am not Lucifer, Dean.”

“Could’ve fooled me with the way you worked me over yesterday.” Dean replied tartly. Sam could’ve sworn that he saw the ghost of a smile pass over the angels’ features at those words. He shook it off as trick of the light and proceeded to un-cuff his brother.

“Ah, much better.” Dean said, rubbing his chafed wrist. “Now that I’m free, who wants to get some grub?” An enthusiastic smile covered his features, the kind that reached his eyes.

“Dean, are you okay?” Sam asked, eyeing Dean suspiciously. Sure, Dean had a voracious appetite, but the Dean he knew would’ve thrown a punch at Castiel as soon as he was free. The Dean he knew would’ve started pacing and kicking things, he would’ve called the angel every name in the book and then some. It was even possible that Dean would’ve chosen to just leave, but he didn’t, and Sam couldn’t help but think that there was something off about his brother.

“What Sammy, I’m hungry!” Dean said defensively. He scooped up his leather jacket off the back of the chair and put it on, checking in the pocket to make sure his keys were there. Then he gave them Sam and Cas a nod, his eyes lingering just a moment too long on Cas Sam thought, then he turned around and walked out the front door, the screen door banging behind him. Sam pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes, willing himself to not think too deeply into this, for once.

“Cas, what’s wrong with him?” Sam said, turning to the much smaller man still in the living room.

“He seems perfectly fine to me, considering.”

“Yeah, he seems _too_ fine. It’s like nothing even happened.”

“I’m not sure what you mean.” The angel replied with his signature head tilt and eye squint.

“Just, ugh, never mind. Okay?” Sam said. The sound of a car starting up came through the window, quickly followed by “Get your ass out here or I’m leaving without you!” caused Sam to grudgingly head toward the door, his stomach rumbling with approval. Suddenly, a thought came to him, his dream ‘ _I did it, all of it, for you_ ’. He turned around, opening his mouth to ask Castiel about this, only to find that the angel was gone.

 

* * *

 

                                                                     

“Dean, I have to talk to you about something.” Sam said, as soon as his monstrous frame was inside the car. “I had this dream last night-“

“Clowns or Midgets?” Dean nudged Sam with his elbow, a grin plastered on his face. Sam shook his head, not appreciating Dean’s levity.

“Listen Dean, I’m serious. I think you should be careful around Cas. I know I don’t have premonitions anymore, but this could be something serious. I just think he might hurt you.”

“In case you didn’t notice Sammy, he already did.” Dean retorted, pointing to the shiner on his right eye. From Sam’s close proximity he could see that, while it was swollen, it wasn’t enough to impair Dean’s vision, it was a sickening combination of purple, and red, with a hint of black, it swooped under his eye, following the curve of his cheekbone.

“No, I mean worse than that. I’ve been having dreams about him hurting you, but in my dream last night he killed you! He made you choke on your own teeth, and I don’t think you should brush it off so easily, he’s kind of a loose cannon lately.”

“Sam, it’s fine. I really don’t think Cas is going to kill me.” He glanced over at his brother and smiled, trying to be reassuring. “Trust me, okay?”

“Okay,” Sam said, feeling uneasy. “Just be careful Dean.”

“I am the definition of careful Sammy!” He glanced at Sam again, who would later be told that he had pulled a serious bitch face.

The rest of the car ride was silent. They got into the diner and had just placed their order, a salad for Sam and a double bacon cheeseburger for Dean, when, with a flutter of wings, Sam was no longer alone on his side of the booth.

“Hey Cas.” Said both boys in unison, having noticed the third party.

“Hello Dean. Sam.” Castiel replied. Sam glanced from Cas to Dean to find that, for some reason, they had begun to stare at one another. Sam had noticed the staring contests before, granted he would just shrug them off. Generally they started because someone had said something that angered the other. Sam looked back to Cas, noticing that something felt different about this one in particular, the tension in the air wasn’t as thick, it wasn’t full of frustration as it usually was, Sam felt like he could just hear what they were saying to each other, both inside their own heads. The air wasn’t thick with animosity, it was thick with secrets. Sam was pulled away from the strange silence when a plate was placed in front of him, another one across the table in front of Dean. He looked down at his plate of greens and cleared his throat, racking his brain for something to say, and then it occurred to him.

“Cas, I had been meaning to ask you earlier, I had a dream last night where you said that you had given everything for Dean. You had given everything and he had almost ruined it. Do you actually think that?” Sam was pushing his salad around the plate with his fork, looking sideways at Cas who hadn’t stopped looking at Dean across the table, who was making animalistic noises as he bit and chewed at his burger.

“I do think that is true, although I’m sure that won’t be a problem. I think Dean has learned his lesson about where his loyalties lie.” Sam noticed, with some discomfort, that Castiel’s voice was a low rumble, almost a growl.

“Yeah, right.” Dean said indignantly around his burger, a mischievous look in his eye as he locked eyes for a moment with Cas. And that’s when things got really strange. In the same moment, Sam watched Cas’s eyebrows raise minutely, his mouth tighten, and Dean gasped from the other side of the table, effectively breathing in part of the bite he had just taken of his burger. Sam watch as he coughed, took a large drink of coffee, and turned to glare at the angel. Sam glanced back and forth between the two men, unsure of what had happened.

“You okay Dean?” He asked uncertainly.

“Fine, Sam.” Dean answered, not even taking his eyes off Cas. Sam resolved to try to eat his salad, not quite wanting to be in the middle of whatever was going on. There was another gasp, followed by an audible gulp and the sound of Dean’s fist hitting the table. Sam looked up again to see his brother slumped over the table and breathing heavily into his food.

“Dean!” Sam yelled, about to jump up from the table when his brother put a hand up to stop him, he calmed on the other side of the table, but kept alert. He turned to ask Castiel if he could use his ‘angel mojo’ as Dean called it to see if he was okay, but the words died on his lips. He sat maybe half of a foot from the angel and could clearly see that his pupils were dilated, and his mouth was pulled into a smile (at least a smile by his standards). Sam watched his hand move under the table and in turn saw his brother start scraping the top of the table and breathing more heavily. Feeling uncomfortable and confused, he got up to go to the bathroom thinking that this was very odd behavior indeed.


	3. Angel Mojo

Dean knew exactly what had gone on at the diner. A subtle defiance countered by display of superiority. It had happened more than once, but never when Sammy was around. Well, there was that one time, but he didn't really count that because Sam hadn't _actually_ caught them, just almost. After they had almost gotten caught he had made the angel promise to never _ever_ let Sam find out about what they were doing. He liked it, sure, because it wasn't real. There wasn't any touching, there weren't any feelings, he could almost pretend like it wasn't absolutely ludicrous, but if Sam knew. Well, if Sam knew he'd be forced to face the music, and truth be told, he'd rather be chased by a pack of Hellhounds through a minefield than go through that. However, as it stood, Dean did enjoy reminiscing about the first time it had happened. That first time Cas had used his 'angel mojo' on Dean came as a complete surprise, and now the thought of it brought a mixture of excitement and anxiety through Dean, but also a twisted sort of humor. Yeah, he supposed it was kind of funny. 

* * *

They were staying in a motel just out of Iowa, on a case involving a particularly nasty vengeful spirit, then again, when were vengeful spirits not nasty. Dean was propped up on the bed watching another re-run of Doctor Sexy MD, sipping a beer, while Sam sat at the table, face glowing from the laptop propped open in front of him. It was supposed to be a quiet night of research when there was a flutter of wings, a rush of air, and suddenly a slightly disgruntled angel standing at the foot of the bed Dean was resting on, squarely between him and the television.

"Cas!" Dean jumped, spilling his open beer on the front of his shirt. "Warn a guy next time!" He uselessly swatted at the wet patch on his shirt, when the dark splotch didn't change he sighed agitatedly before leaning over the end of the bed to grab a fresh shirt from his duffel. He pulled out yet another plain gray tee from his seemingly endless supply before sitting back up on the bed. He reached for the back of his shirt to pull it over his head, narrowing his eyes when he noticed that Cas, still at the foot of the bed, was watching him with rapt attention. "You mind?'

"Not particularly." Cas replied, ticking his head to the side with a slight frown. Dean sighed, shedding his soiled shirt and replacing it with his new one.

"What do you want?" Dean asked once his head was poked out of the top. As he was sliding it down his toned stomach he noticed the angel's eyes had widened marginally, following the motion of Dean's hands and finally resting on the sliver of skin still peeking out above the hem of his pants. He tugged the hem down self-consciously before clearing his throat. This brought Cas' attention back up to his gaze. He stared directly into the blue eyes that he had stared into so often. Those deep blue eyes that reminded him of the ocean on a stormy day, they had such power behind them. _I wonder how powerful he is.. Wait. What?_ Dean thought, mentally shaking such strange thoughts right off.

"I have no news of Lucifer, and I don't know where to look next." At this Castiel shook his head in a very human fashion. He was clearly frustrated at his inability to know where to look next.

"Well, you wanna move? I'm missing my show."

"Dean, what's wrong?" Sam turned to look at his brother, and by the look on his face, had noticed the odd tension emanating between the two other men in the room.

"Nothing, Sam." Dean replied, staring dagger at the angel in front of him. After all he'd been through was it really so hard to just let him watch a little TV?

"Sure," Sam began sarcastically, "I think I'll go get some food, I'm pretty hungry, wanna toss me your keys?" In one fluid motion, and without looking away, Dean tossed Sam his keys from across the room, which he caught with one hand and left the room, slamming the door behind him.

"Don't make me tell you again, Cas. Move!" At this Cas cocked an eyebrow and his hand shot out in front of him, aimed at the man on the bed.

"I am tired of your attitude Dean." He said gruffly, eyebrows knitted together. Simultaneously the light bulb in the lamp next to the bed shattered and the TV shut off. Dean's eyes widened at the sudden outburst and he looked frantically back over at Cas who took a step forward so his legs were flush with the bed. "You scream at me for doing what you want." Dean felt an invisible force around his wrists tighten and pull them to the side of the bed, his legs were next. He lay there, spread-eagle and unable to move as he gaped up at the angel at the foot of the bed, panic coursing through him. "And you scream at me for not doing what you want." Castiel spoke in an ominously calm voice as he glowered at his charge, pink lips parting slightly. "Don't scream Dean."

Dean suddenly felt a pressure just below his buckle, he gasped in surprise. "The hell are you-!" But that was all he managed to get out as the pressure started trailing a slow path up his abdomen. The feeling reminded him of hands, strong but a little too hot, as they slowly traced his stomach muscles, reaching up under his shirt, gently brushing over his nipples as they continued to feel down his sides. He tried to move, tried to get out of this strange situation, but the invisible shackles held him in one place. One of the 'hands' started moving back down south, tracing over every contour of his torso seductively on the way, suddenly it gripped around his member, causing Dean to let out a strangled yelp. Meanwhile, the other ran over his ribs to his back, scratching savagely at the skin there. His eyelids fell closed as a loud, desperate moan ripped through Dean before he could stop it when the force started rubbing very gently around his manhood.

"Cas, please-" He croaked through heavy breaths. At the moment he wasn't sure if he wanted to say stop, or keep going. All he could feel was the pleasure of something that wasn't him slowly building him to a climax. All he could think was how good it felt and how long had it been since he'd gotten laid? _This is Cas though._ Said a tiny voice in the back of his mind, his eyes flew open and he peered down at the man, his eyelids were half closed, brows furrowed, and a small smile was playing at his lips. _It's not gay if we don't touch right?_ Dean reasoned, noticing a definite bulge in the Cas' pants, and right as he was about to comment on this, the pressure started moving faster, brushing the top of the head every so often and sending shivers down Dean's spine. It worked its way up and down his shaft, getting him closer and closer. He squeezed his eyes shut, arched up off the bed "Oh shit!" He was on the brink, and then, there was nothing.

Dean opened his eyes, already feeling the pressure in his nether regions building up. Cas was still standing at the edge of the bed, breathing heavily, arms down by his sides. His eyes were wide, a look of terror plastered on his face that Dean had already seen once before, at the brothel. He looked down at his hands as though they were foreign before looking back up to meet Dean's gaze. "Cas," Dean breathed "What… Why?" He tried to bring his arms up, glancing down at them momentarily when he saw that he could move them again. When he glanced back up the angel, he was gone. Sighing he sat up on the bed, pulling off his new shirt in preparation to take a shower. At that point in time, Sam walked in through the door, carrying a large paper bag, to see Dean on his bed, slouched over and back to him.

"Dean," Sam paused, searching for the least awkward phrasing.

"What, Sam!" Dean snapped and turned around. He was sweaty and a bit red in the face.

"When was the last time you got laid?"

"Why do you care?"

"You've still got the scratch marks on your back." Sam replied, snickering to himself.

"Shut up bitch." Dean retorted, making his way to the bathroom to relieve the pressure caused by the onset of his blue balls. He heard a faint "Jerk" trailing behind him as he turned the knob and was faced with the familiar hiss of the shower. _What the hell was that?_


	4. That One Time

Then there was the third time it happened, Dean mused to himself. That was the time Sam _almost_ caught them.

* * *

 

It was a few days before the 'Diner Incident' as Sam would later dub it in his head, and Dean was shutting him out, as usual. Sam would never understand why his brother would get so wound up, but wouldn't just talk to him. Lately though, Dean had been even more snappy, more strung out. He blew up at the drop of a hat, and of course Sam was forced to deal with it. He hated it; he hated walking around on eggshells for fear of projectiles aimed for his head. They were staying at Bobby's for the moment, waiting. Even more strange was Dean's reaction whenever Castiel was around. Dean would either leave the room abruptly with some lame excuse, or he would alternate between giving him the cold shoulder and staring at him intensely.

Sam had decided that he had enough after Dean had left the room again with the excuse of having to go brush his teeth. For the third time that day. Sam watched Dean stalk off down the hall and, glancing over his shoulder to make sure Castiel was still enthralled in his conversation with Bobby, he slipped out of the room quietly to follow. He watched his brother duck into the guest room on the right. Sam padded softly behind him, thankful he had taken off his shoes. When he reached the room he tried the door, but it was locked. He raised his hand to knock when he heard a soft moan come through the door. He shook his head and chuckled quietly. _Really?_ He thought to himself. _He must be really desperate if he feels the need to masturbate three times a day._ He began to walk back down the hall when he heard something the froze him in place, his stomach dropping somewhere that was not physically possible.

"Caaas…" It was Dean's voice again, he was sure of it. He spun around on his heel, in three quick strides he was at the door again, listening intently. He didn't want to, but he had to make sure that he was hearing things. There was no way his totally heterosexual brother just moaned out a male's name. No, scratch that, a male _angel's_ name _._ Right?

"Castiel, I hope you can hear me right now because I'm friggin prayin'."

Sam was horrified. He reached up and banged on the door with his right hand before he thought better of it. "Dean!" He shouted through the door. Total silence echoed around him from everywhere at once. Of course Dean would have a good reason for that, as weird as it was. He heard the locking mechanism on the door click and it opened, revealing a sliver of Dean's face.

"I'm a little busy." Dean said with a smirk.

"Uh, no, you're not." Sam pushed his way into the room and past Dean. He did a quick sweep of the room to make sure they were alone before turning to face the shorter man, who had moved to stand beside the bed."I heard that, you know."

"Heard what?" Dean squeaked. Sam stowed that particular bit of bait in the back of his mind, focusing on the task at hand. In the years that would come following that moment though, Sam would occasionally bring up the squeak, guffawing loudly while Dean would swear up and down that he did not, in fact, squeak.

"I heard what you said. You want to tell me what's going on, or what?"

"Not," Dean paused, grabbing the nightstand beside him. "Really." He finished. Sweat was pooling above his brow and on the skin above his collarbone. He gave Sam a tight-lipped smile and gasped, his knees buckling.

"Dude, are you sick?"

"No Sam. I'm fine, or at least I would be if you would just leave." It was then that Sam noticed that his brother was trying, very poorly, to cover up a prominent bulge in his pants. Sam paused, slightly disgusted, uncomfortable, and unsure if he should continue. Unfortunately, his morbid curiosity would not allow him to leave, he silently cursed himself.

"Just tell me why I heard that." Sam rubbed his neck trying to will himself to repeat what he had heard. "See, I thought you were just – you know – enjoying some alone time." He began, having to talk over his brother's ragged breathing. "But then I heard you say 'Cas', and then you were praying to him when he's _in the kitchen_. I'm going to hate myself forever for this, but I just need to make sure that I'm going crazy, because that sounded like something _bad_ , and yeah.." He trailed off, not wanting to think about it anymore as he took a deep breath in and waited.

"I didn't say his name. You were hearing things. And I just-just-just thought that I should try to get him in here, you know, to talk about a-angel stuff. Like - **Would you just stop for a second**?!"

"Stop what, Dean?" With that, Dean groaned quite loudly, eyes closing as he fell to his knees. "Dean?!" Sam said worriedly, all thoughts of his brother's odd behavior out of his mind. He knelt down and rested his hands on Dean's shoulders, ducking his head to look at his face. On closer inspection his face was covered with a thin sheen of sweat, and when he opened his eyes Sam watched his pupils go from dilated to normal in a matter of seconds, but Sam didn't think much of it.

"Listen, I'll just be out in a sec, okay? I just need to-uh- freshen up." He gave his best smile to Sam, who hesitated before getting up and walking out the door, all the while tossing worried looks over his shoulder. "I'm fine." As soon as the door was secure, Dean sighed and lifted up his hand, surveying the damage on his pants. "Son of a bitch." He muttered to himself. "These were clean too."

* * *

Meanwhile, in the kitchen, while Bobby droned on about various types of guns, Castiel's right hand stopped moving and rested at his side, the hint of a smile on his lips.


	5. Busted!

Sam Winchester was not stupid. In fact, he quite often considered himself to be the smarter and more level-headed of the two brothers. He was exceptionally good at figuring things out, which came in handy when it came down to "Oh, that wasn't a spirit, that was a little girl who's been living in the walls" and various other times when they came face-to-face with something only to later find out that they had been face-to-face with something completely different. Sam was never a boaster, but he had always felt a prickle of pride at his innate ability to sniff out the truth. And now as he lay in bed, staring up at the dark ceiling that was tinged a faint blue from the moon outside the second story window, he began to recall the events of the last week with disturbing clarity. Images flashed by, when suddenly his mind came to rest on that day in the guest bedroom. Dean had been sweaty, flushed, and rather obviously aroused. And just a few minutes before then he had been saying a name – oh no. Oh gross.

Sam bolted upright in the bed, covers bunching around his lap when he came to his sudden realization. Sam was the smarter of the Winchester brothers, he could figure out what an 'oh' face was. Storming down the hall to the living room where his brother was sleeping, Sam vaguely recalled having not put pants on, but at this point he wasn't so bothered. Concern and confusion clouded his thoughts as he took the last few steps into the living room, crouching down next to the couch on level with the sleeping man.

"Dean!" Sam whispered forcefully, his voice a quiet yell. "Dean, get up!" Sam grabbed his brothers' shoulder. Dean bolted upright and alert, grabbing the knife from under his pillow and flinging it around wildly before realizing he was in no immediate danger. He looked to his brother, face going from fright, to relief, to incredulousness, to frustration. Sam stifled a chuckle in the back of his hand at the comical change of expressions in Dean's face, but when frustration turned into an all-out glare, he lowered his hand, willing his smile to relax into something more serious.

"What do you want Sam? I need my four hours!"

"I know, but Dean, I-I know you've been hiding something from me, and I want to know. I think it's my right to know."

"Nothing's going on Sam! Drop it." Dean rolled his eyes and lay back down on the couch.

"So, there's nothing going on between you and Cas?"

"What? No. You're crazy." If he had blinked, Sam would have missed the look of confused panic on Dean's face. The look of the kid who just got caught elbow deep in a cookie jar. He hadn't blinked though, and he watched as the man on the couch reached up to swiped a calloused hand over his face, suspiciously not meeting Sam's gaze. "There's nothing going on."

"C'mon Dean, I-"

"Drop it Sam!" He replied hastily, and with more force than necessary. His hand dropped to the side so his elbow was covering his eyes, Sam raised an eyebrow and Dean sighed quietly before continuing. "You're imagining things. Besides if, hypothetically, there were something going on, why would I tell _you_ about it?"

Sam thought about this statement for a moment, he really did. He knew Dean wasn't likely to spill his guts to his little brother about the things that bother him, the 'chick flick' moments. Not to mention the hunter would probably choose another forty years in Hell over downgrading his masculinity, because really, that's what this was about. He was being defensive because he would probably never want to admit in a million years that he liked a dude, but Sam knew. That's all that mattered, even if Dean never wanted to talk about it, Sam would secretly know. Besides, he reasoned, it's not like he was going to lose Dean, it's not like his older brother would ever give into temptation on something like this. And, on that note, Sam decided it best to just drop the subject.

"All right, you win. Good night."

"Night." Dean grunted in response and rolled over.

Sam padded out of the room and back up the stairs, each step groaning beneath him in response to the weight, shaking his head and smiling. His brother had feelings for Castiel, the angel, the guy. The sheer ludicrousness of it was enough to baffle him, but it really did put his behavior into perspective, in the diner and in the guest room. He reached the door and crossed the threshold, feeling accomplished that he knew, and Dean didn't have to know that he knew. And it's not like the strange attraction would ever see the light of day, Sam adjusted the covers and lay back down, contented.

Meanwhile, in the living room, Dean rolled back onto his back and paused, listening for anything to suggest that anyone was still awake. When he was sure that he hadn't even heard a mouse fart, he slowly sat up on the couch and looked to the ceiling in the darkness.

"Cas, get your feathery ass down here. We got a problem."

* * *

"I don't understand what you're so worried about." Cas' gravelly voice came from where he was perched on the desk opposite the room from Dean. "Sam knows that you have non-committal intercourse with strangers quite often."

"No, Cas." Dean ran a hand through his hair; they had been going over this for about twenty minutes now, and he was getting exasperated. "I have non-committal sex with _women,_ not with dudes."

"Yes you do."

"No, I don't." The angel looked at the eldest Winchester with his signature confused frown, but also the slightest trace of annoyance on his face. As though he were patiently explaining to a child why they shouldn't put a knife in the toaster.

"But, you do."

"Listen," Dean started, clearly frustrated. There was a gnawing in the back of his brain that made him just want to drop the subject and go to sleep, but he couldn't do that until he knew that he and the nerd angel were on the same page. "We've had - y'know - sex, but that doesn't mean that I like dudes the way I like women." He paused, trying to find the words to explain himself, he had to, Cas had to understand. "I'll have sex with any woman above a five, but I will _only_ – you know – with you. That means I'm not gay.

"If I am correct in my understanding, that was a compliment." The hint of a smile crossed Castiel's lips, ignoring Dean's exasperated sigh.

"No Cas, it wasn't a compliment, it was a statement."

"So, you're saying that I'm not good at intercourse?"

"Jesus, dude! That's not what I'm saying. Look, we just can't let Sam find out about what's been going on. Okay?"

"We have agreed on this Dean, I don't understand why you've decided to bring it up now." He tilted his head to the side slightly, as though it would help him to see the world better.

"Sam caught you using your angel mojo on me a few days ago. You know, when I yelled at you to stop."

"Yes," Castiels' eyes glimmered with amusement. "I did enjoy that."

"Do you have any idea how hard that was? I had to keep a straight face in front of Sam while you worked me over!"

"You could always show me."

"No, I'm not doing that again. Why did you start at the diner anyway? In front of Sam?! That was not cool!"

"It may not have been 'cool' to you, but you know that I will stop when you learn your place Dean Winchester." Dean gulped as he turned away from the celestial blue gaze staring him down, daring him to talk back. He remembered the first time he'd been 'taught his place'; it was the night he tried to give himself to the angels. Suddenly there were fists, and blood, then there was a bed, and pain followed by immense pleasure as what could've been the sun was inked out by the black feathers, those huge vestiges of power framing the warrior of god. His eyes darted around the room as he was suddenly very aware of the tightness in his pants. "You enjoy thinking about it." Castiel had taken a couple steps forward, moving deftly toward the hunter, catching his gaze. Dean's mouth went bone dry and he swallowed, or at least attempted to. "You would enjoy it if happened again." Dean chuckled nervously at the statement as the angel took another few steps forward, and all of a sudden Dean had an eyeful of dark black slacks, skirted by a tan trench coat.

Dean didn't have a chance to retort as the angel's lips landed on his, chapped but warm, as the back of his head was cradled in the others' hand. Every thought that had been in Deans' head disintegrated into blissful darkness. He closed his eyes and leaned into the kiss, opening his mouth to let the angel in. Taking the opportunity, Castiel slipped his tongue in as he settled his weight between Dean's legs, slowly pushing him backward into the couch until he found himself flat on his back. He could feel hands on his body, beginning at his shoulders, then descending to his hips, where they proceeded their journey under his shirt, nimble fingers sliding over taut skin. He shuddered as the hands ran their way up his abdomen before an irritated growl broke through the angels' mouth. Cas pulled himself away from Dean, and sat up.

"Off." Cas looked at the other man's shirt with disdain. Dean hastily removed the offensive garment, deciding to himself that Castiel was definitely wearing too much as well. He grabbed the lapels of the others' ever-present trench coat and pulled him into another kiss, he needed this. He needed the heat and the desperation and desire and anything that could keep his mind off of the severe lack of boobs and curves. He worked hastily, each gravelly moan the angel made sent small shockwaves throughout his entire body and reverberated in his groin. First to hit the floor was the coat, then the tie, then deft fingers furiously slipped the buttons through the white dress shirt, finally removing it and tossing it to the side with the rest. "Dean.."

Castiel thrust his hips forward, grinding himself and Dean together. "Cas." Dean moaned breathily, he leaned his head back and closed his eyes, focusing on sensation, and the angel took this invitation, kissing and biting his way down to Dean's collarbone. Dean's head was swimming, there was heat, and desire, and hunger, and he needed this so badly, but he had suddenly become very aware of the feeling of stubble on his neck. His eyes flew open, a panicked expression on his face. _I'm not gay, I'm not gay, I'm not gay, I'm not gay_ ran through his head, over and over like a mantra. He gulped a breath, about to push Castiel off him when the latter slid his hand up and gently pressed it over the handprint on Dean's left shoulder, looking up at him from under dark lashes, his pupils blown so just a sliver of blue showed around the rim. A shudder erupted through Dean, and Castiel smiled against his skin. He ground their erections together again through rough fabric before leaning up and pressing his lips against Dean's.

The two men writhed on the couch, Castiel grinding them together in a rhythmic pattern, sweat glistening on their tanned skin. Castiel found that he enjoyed this very much. As much as he liked unraveling Dean using his powers, he much preferred taste and touch and sweat and heat. Dean was slowly coming undone beneath him, he was breathing heavily, back arched, his nails digging deliciously into Cas's back. He skimmed his nimble fingers over Dean, pausing and brushing lightly against his nipple, then he thrust their hips together once, twice, and three times. Dean was right on the edge, pressure building in his groin, he moaned and pushed Castiel away, instantly missing the body heat.

"I want to see them." He demanded breathily. He held Castiel at arm's length, hands just above the other's elbows, and Castiel looked down at the man, considering. His pupils were blown, hair going this way and that, sheen on his body from sweat. Cas put his hands on Deans' hips and dug his nails in earning him a surprised gasp.

"Beg." Malice glimmered in his eyes as Dean's back arched off the couch and his hips bucked, searching for friction.

"Castiel please. Please, for the love of god, let them out." Dean noticed a minute nod and smile from his angel. It was a sight to behold as the angel flexed his muscles, chest heaving as he pushed his wings out of his back in the blink of an eye. Dean's eyes widened as he saw the ebony wings stretch and ruffle as they adjusted to the new setting, gently scraping the ceiling and floor. He reached up and ran his hand over their velvety surface.

"Dean…" Castiel growled as he leaned over, eyes falling shut, and he placed a hand on the back of the couch to steady himself. Dean smirked and reached up, gripping the base of the lustrous black wing. Cas's eyes flew open as he gasped. He smashed their mouths together in a desperate kiss, all tongue and teeth and breath, and he ground their hips together again, this time more forcefully.

"Shit, Cas!" Dean exclaimed around the kiss, he felt the muscles in the wing tighten and loosen repeatedly in perfect rhythm that the other man had begun thrusting his hips to. Castiel moved his mouth down to Dean's collarbone, trailing sloppy wet kissed down his neck, where he proceeded to bite down hard enough to bruise. "Cas, you gotta slow down."

"I won't stop Dean." Cas raised his head up and looked Dean in the eyes, something flickered there for a moment, but as soon as Dean had noticed it, it was shoved down, masked my rough lust and a need so great it made his insides constrict. Castiel ground their hips together one last time, feeling Dean tighten and give beneath him. A ragged moan escaped Dean's lips as his manhood began to convulse with orgasm, lining the inside of his pants with the hot liquid. He pulled Cas down and pressed their lips together as he rode out the high of his orgasm, moaning roughly into the other man's mouth, his hands pulling frantically at the short black hairs on the back of his head. He finished and lay back, panting.

"Oh. My. God!" Dean heard someone exclaim from what seemed like the other side of ten feet of brick wall. He opened his eyes to see Castiel was frozen over him, breathing heavily, a look of pure horror over his flushed face as he stared at something just behind Dean. He careened his neck to see behind him over the arm of the couch, and his blood ran cold.

It was Sam.


	6. The "L" Word

"There's nothing going on! That's what you said Dean! What the _hell_?!" Sam was in hysterics, screaming and gesturing wildly with his hands, as though there were invisible bats flying around his head. "I-I-I-I mean, I don't care either way but Dean! WHAT THE HELL?! An Angel Dean?! Really?! He's- he's our _friend_!" A vein had begun throbbing in his forehead, his face flushed bright red. Dean finally regained control of his body and he pushed Cas off, quickly moving to a sitting position. He could feel his heart beating too erratically to be healthy and his stomach was tied in knots that he was sure wasn't possible. _How am I going to get out of this one?_

"I'll just-" Castiel picked his clothes up hastily from the floor, holding them limply in his hand. His face was an exact duplicate as it had been at the brothel, pure terror mixed with an almost sadness. He was frantically looking back and forth between the two Winchesters before he finally locked eyes with Dean. "I'll just be going then."

"Like hell you will!" Dean said roughly standing up from the couch, scooping on his own shirt and pulling it over his head. "I'll nail your feathers to the floor if I have to Cas. You're not leaving." A subtle defiance in the angels' eyes was quickly pushed down as he began pulling his shirt on. To Dean's incredulity, the wings slipped right through the shirt as though it were an apparition, and not a solid object. He pulled his eyes away from Cas' pale torso and turned his head to look at his brother once again. "How long have you been standing there?"

"I-I-" He hesitated, trying to gain some semblance of calm and failing miserably. "Long enough to see," He gestured wildly at the couch, " _That!_ " He dropped his arms to his sides, a resolved expression coming over his face. "I'm going to ask you questions and you _will_ answer them, understand?" Dean nodded guiltily, glancing at the angel beside him who had finally adorned all of his layers. "First, wings?" He threw his hands up in the direction of the man standing beside Dean, eyes wide.

"They are a physical manifestation of my true wings in heaven." Cas paused and looked up at his wings, almost with a look of disgust. "They are nowhere near their usual grandeur." He looked back over at Sam, who stood, hunched over and gaping at the huge protrusions. Dean marveled at how easily Cas had calmed and resumed his usual indifferent demeanor.

"But-why?"

"Well-" Dean began, rubbing his neck. "I-"

"You know what?" Sam cut in, putting his hands up, "I don't want to know." He shook his head violently and sighed. He crossed over to the kitchen and grabbed a beer, grabbing one for Dean out of habit more than anything. He walked back, considered sitting on the couch, he shook his head again and made for the desk. Both Cas and Dean stood in the center of the room and waited until he had taken a few calming breaths, a few swigs of beer, and had situated himself on the desk. "So, you two-"

The implied question hung in the air and Dean shuffled from foot to foot, clearly uncomfortable. He thumbed the bottle in his hand before unscrewing the top and taking a large swig. He shook his head at the floor. "Sam, it's n-"

"Don't you dare say it's nothing Dean!" Sam shouted, his face had turned stormy as he took a step forward so he was looming over his big brother, he pointed toward the doorway. "I saw it, that was _not_ nothing."

"Sam.." Dean's voice was pleading, he wasn't proud of it. He looked up at Sam, something in his eyes saying _please just let it go_. But Sam wouldn't, and he didn't, and somehow Dean knew it would come to this. He looked at Cas desperately, who furrowed his brow and shrugged minutely, before looking at Sam again. Thankfully, he had retreated back to the desk so Dean didn't have to look up at him. "I don't know. It's nothing. Just a-" He struggled for words. "I don't know." He shrugged helplessly before sitting back down on the couch and taking another drink.

"Okay so," Sam began, flushing. "How long has - this - been going on?"

"Remember the case in Iowa a few weeks back?" He motioned at Castiel, who stood motionless and slate-faced beside the couch. Sam nodded, the realization hit and he made a face like he had just sucked on a lemon.

"God, Dean!"

"Yeah." Dean chuckled nervously and upended his beer, guzzling it like a dehydrated man would when faced with water. He figured if he drank it quickly enough, it might give him a little bit of a buzz and make this whole thing easier. He eyed the bottle, nope. No way would it get him buzzed, he sighed at the loss.

"Do you guys," Sam paused, rubbing his neck. "Love each other?" Two things happened simultaneously at this point. Dean choked on the drink he had been in the middle of and began a ten minute coughing jag, spraying beer onto the carpet and his lap, whereas Castiel made the surprised and terrified face he had when Sam had just caught them.

"Love?" Dean managed to spit out after he had finished coughing. He wiped his mouth and looked over at his brother with bewilderment. "Love, Sam?" Sam watched as he put his head in his hands and sighed. Neither of them noticed the flutter of wings.

"Do you realize what kind of question that is? I mean, for us, Sammy! Think about it! You know how bad that question is!" He looked up at his brother, then over at the space that was now distinctly lacking an angel. "Cas?" Dean stood and looked about wildly. "Cas?!" Dean called again, as though hoping the angel would pop his head from around a corner mentioning something about a game of hide-and-seek. "Son of a bitch!" Dean kicked the couch, furious.

"Dean..?" Sam tentatively asked.

"Drop it Sam!" Dean yelled.

"Dean." Sam reached out and grabbed his big brother's shoulders, spinning him around so they were looking each other in the eye. "Tell me what's going on! Please!"

"We-" Dean swallowed and softened beneath his grip, a tiny crack showing in the mask he had built over the years. All Sam needed was a crack, a sliver, and he could help. "We-" He sighed. "We, y'know…" Dean trailed off, and it took a moment for Sam to understand, but he did. And when he did, he was not quick enough to mask the look of repulsed disappointment that crossed his face before Dean saw it. Retaliating, Dean pushed Sam away with enough force that the big moose actually stumbled backward. "Drop it Sam." Dean's voice was threateningly low.

"Dean." Sam placated.

"Just drop it." He glared at Sam threateningly before turning away, going out to the kitchen and propping his elbows on the lip of the counter.

Sam was about to say something, anything, else, but all it would do would anger Dean further. So he turned on his heel and trumped up the stairs, not even remembering what he had come down for in the first place.


	7. Emotions and Anger

Castiel was not an idiot. Sure, sometimes he was confused when it came to the complexities of humanity, particularly speech and slang, but emotions weren't foreign territory. He had spent thousands of years watching humans and had learned all about emotions. Cas knew what emotions humans had, but only in a textbook sense, he had never experienced them for himself. And yet, after all those years, he still could never quite wrap his head around complex emotions like love and hatred. They weren't just one emotion, they were a cacophony that combined to form one word that could never be fully explained or comprehended. The simple emotions, however, like happiness, sadness, anger, and pain were fairly easy to understand. In theory, most human emotions were easy to understand.

Then, an unwitting Dean came along, and actually managed to teach an angel how to _feel_.

It started off slowly, in bits and pieces, after his rebellion. By choosing man over heaven he didn't realize that he had begun putting tiny cracks in the dam that held back his own emotions – something he never really knew he had. Sometimes he would feel what could only be described as happy, or angry, simple emotions. He found that pain and anger were more prevalent than happiness, which made the idea of humanity seem… Unpleasant.

As the cracks in his dam got wider and began trickling water he learned that different emotions could arise from different situations. Cas had felt fear. For the first time in his millennia of existence Castiel had feared. It was a terrible emotion, he could feel his blood pumping in his ears, a strange electricity had settled over every inch of his body, and it felt as though his stomach had dropped out of him – although he knew that was not possible. He and Dean had been standing in the abandoned house when Raphael showed up, they lit the holy fire, successfully trapping his brother, and yet he still had the power to blow the windows out. He looked over at the hunter as time seemed to slow, and all he could think to do was shield him from the shattering glass, he moved before he knew what he was doing, his heart beating far too loud. In that moment, Castiel was afraid, not of Raphael, but for Dean. He grabbed Dean and held him, feeling a thousand tiny pinpricks cut into his back. Upon reflection, he realized that was irrational, the glass had been in shards too small to kill the hunter, and yet, he did not want a single piece to cut the man. It confused him immensely, so he brushed it off.

Later on, Dean brought him to a brothel, there the cracks widened enough to let a small stream through. Looking around at the scantily clad women he felt out of place, nervous and uncomfortable. And yet, instead of fleeing the 'den of iniquity' like every fiber of his being wanted to, he had stayed. He was terrified, but one look into Dean's smiling face, and he stayed. He so rarely saw the tortured soul smile, even though he was the joke, it was one of the most beautiful things he had ever seen. So, he was miserable, but he was also keenly aware of the fact that that smile made his heart skip a beat. It was an intense mix of emotions. Then Dean sent him away with some woman who reeked of liquor and sin. She led him to the back, ignoring his terrified babbling. When they reached the room she pushed him into a plush pink chair and climbed onto his lap, hips moving this way and that to the loud music as she pressed her breasts into his face. He observed, and felt absolutely nothing for this woman. He thought he should be feeling _something_ , but instead he just felt sad; this poor woman had a terrible relationship with her father. He offered some advice, and was thrown out, that was confusing. In the end it was worth it, he had felt like he could explode from happiness as they left and Dean's hearty laugh bellowed off the buildings lining the small alleyway. Dean needed to laugh more often, he thought to himself. Then Dean put his arm around him, and a very pleasant tingle enveloped him, forcing him to smile and lean a little farther into Dean's touch.

As days went on his stream turned into a river. He found himself hovering more closely to the eldest Winchester than he used to. He wound up searching for reasons to speak to him, about anything. However, being clumsy with dialogue as he was, Dean usually ended the conversation short with a strange look and a chuckle. He had felt shunned and abandoned when he stood on the side of the road waiting for Dean to sleep. Unable to hold out any longer, he had given in to temptation and teleported Dean to his side a bit sooner than he had intended, but Dean didn't seem to mind. He had clapped a hand on his shoulder, something that had Cas' heart doing extremely impossible acrobatics inside his chest, and said "Don't ever change." Those three words caused a rush of euphoria to crash over him, and he smiled, something he found himself doing more often when Dean was around as opposed to when he was not. Although he was unsure why, when around the eldest Winchester, Cas began to notice that his heart would bang painfully in his chest and it felt as though his insides were twisting, although that was physically impossible, but at the same time he was finding more joy in the world than he ever had before, although that was exceedingly illogical considering the looming apocalypse. Alarmed, he had spent a day in a library just outside Sioux Falls, where he had read every piece of literature he could find on love, the most useful information coming from poetry. He took this knowledge with him throughout everyday life, occasionally glancing back on it when he felt a particularly nasty melting pot of emotion.

It only took him three days to realize that this only happened around the eldest Winchester. Not knowing what to do with this newly acquired information he tucked it safely away in his dam and resolved to spend less time around the Winchesters.

He spent some time searching up and down the Earth for Lucifer, or anything that might help in the fight. Exasperated, he touched down where the boys were staying, at a motel out of Iowa. All he wanted was a little reassurance, a friendly conversation. He got neither. Instead, he touched down and was immediately yelled at, after everything that he had been doing, Dean was being mouthy to him, again, just for landing in the wrong spot and startling him. Then Dean had to change his soiled shirt. He hadn't realized it was rude to watch someone change clothes, and he supposed that, had he just known this one social nuance, everything could have been avoided, but he didn't. So he watched as Dean removed his shirt, and when he could see that toned, tan abdomen something stirred deep within the pit of his stomach. It was something primal and terrifying, but he couldn't look away. Then Sam had left. Sam had just gone and left the angel alone with Dean, not realizing what string of events he had just allowed to begin. "Don't make me tell you again, Cas. Move!" Dean had shouted.

That was when the dam broke, and the sane and stoic Castiel was picked up and dragged under the gushing torrent of emotions.

Castiel was angry, and hurt, and so desperately enamored with this man and what was he doing? Yelling. He was yelling at the very man who saved his soul from Hell. He was, once again, belittling the _Warrior of_ _God_ standing at the foot of his bed. Castiel was fed up. His intention was to use his powers to cause Dean pain, to teach him a lesson, that was the plan. He just wanted him to stop being so angry. He had pulled Dean's legs and arms off to the side so he wouldn't squirm. "Don't scream Dean." He had said, and in that millisecond as he looked over Dean's taut body stretched spread-eagle on the cheap motel bed, he felt his blood begin to boil under his skin, as his southern region twitched. His ears were hot and his heart was beating too fast; images of himself doing sinful acts with the Righteous Man flashed by in front of his eyes. With an almost academic observation, Castiel realized he was aroused. Extremely so. It was in that moment that he involuntarily switched from wanting to cause pain, to wanting to cause pleasure. Unable to stop himself, he did. He began to bumble around Dean's body with his powers, he felt hard muscles and sharp angels along the hunters body. He couldn't feel Dean's body with his vessel, but he could feel him with his grace, and it felt more amazing than anything he had ever imagined _._ He watched as Dean unraveled before him and for him. He was causing this and he loved it. He loved touching Dean in the places he had always wanted to. "Oh shit!" Dean had cried and arched off the bed. Cas could feel Dean tense under his 'touch' and in that moment, the ludicrousness of the situation slammed home. He was using his celestial powers, granted to him by God himself, to do nothing more than satisfy human desire. He was terrified, so he fled, leaving a bewildered Dean to finish his business in the bathroom alone. That was the first time.

The second time he had used his powers on Dean, it had been shortly after he had confessed to him that he heard him in the bathroom. He heard Dean pray to him. "Well, if it's such a damn inconvenience Cas, why didn't you just finish the job?!" Dean had yelled in his face, again. So, he finished the job. Filled with lust and dirty, human need he worked Dean over until he had an orgasm, enjoying every moment that the hunters' hips bucked frantically, searching for friction and finding none. It had been relieving in a sense, but still left him wanting.

The third time was when Cas was standing in the kitchen, Dean had left to go 'brush his teeth'. Once Dean was alone in the bedroom though, his voice was in Castiel's head, begging him for some 'angel mojo' and Cas had complied, albeit hesitantly. He enjoyed watching Dean tremble at his doing, but he would be okay with just hearing the man, and he did. It wasn't long before the hunter was moaning breathlessly in his head, whispering obscenities and begging for more, although it did make it difficult to hold his conversation with Bobby. He had had to use his coat to cover his arousal, and when Dean yelled at him to stop he did the opposite out of indignation. Dean had tersely informed him later about his brother being in the room, but Castiel hadn't felt bad at all, he had actually found it mildly amusing.

Then everything changed.

* * *

Dean was locked in the panic room for trying to give himself over to Michael, and Sam wanted to talk to Dean and asked Castiel to accompany him 'just in case'. When they got down to the basement Sam walked into the panic room, however Cas knew he couldn't allow himself to be in such close proximity to the hunter, so he had stood in the hallway.

"Cas, not for nothing, but the last person who looked at me like that… I got laid."

"Uh, why don't you -uh- go keep an eye on Adam?" Sam had offered helpfully, but as Cas had shut the door, he didn't miss the wink that Dean had given him. He stood there for a moment, allowing his mind to conjure up images of sweat-slicked skin on skin, breathless moans and heat. He shook it off and went upstairs. After a few hours, it was his turn to check on Dean. He had gone down and seen what looked like a struggle, concerned he had gone inside, where Dean had been hiding to banish him. He woke up on the south side of Chicago, thankful that he had been strong enough to wake up not half an hour after Dean had pulled his little stunt, which didn't leave Dean enough time to get too far. He knew what Dean was doing, and he was pissed.

"You pray too loud." Cas had shown up two feet from Dean, putting the praying man unconscious. He had fully intended to just bring Dean back when he found him, but after seeing him an anger unlike anything he had ever felt unfurled in his gut and he grabbed Dean by his jacket and pulled him into the alleyway.

"What're you crazy?" Dean shouted looking crazed.

"I rebelled for this?!" Castiel yelled, he punched Dean in the face once, twice, before grabbing his jacket and pulling him slightly upward. "So you could surrender to them." He threw Dean to the other wall and punched him hard in the gut. All of the rage he felt at being cut off from heaven, and by Dean's own betrayal was fuel to the fire that had blossomed under his skin. He felt a fool. He had turned his back on his entire family, and for what?! He vaguely heard Dean say the single word please, but he couldn't stop. He had been betrayed by this man that he had given everything to. He threw Dean to the other wall and pressed forward until they were nose to nose. "I gave everything for you, and this is what you give to me!" He could feel Dean's breath ghost his lips. His face was bloody and bruises were forming. He punched again, and then kicked Dean into the fence. He looked down on his charge, clenching his fists to hit again, as Dean struggled to look up.

"Do it." Dean said through blood-lined lips. "Just do it!" At that something clenched in Castiel's nether regions, and he remembered the visions of lust that occurred to him outside the panic room. His rage hadn't been sated, but his hunger for Dean outweighed it in that moment and all he could think of was how Dean would taste.

"I'm going to teach you to respect your superiors." He leaned over and touched Dean's shoulder, transporting them to a motel room.


	8. That Fateful Night

"What the hell?" Dean said, frantically looking about at the change of scenery. If there was something else he was about to say, he didn't get the chance as he was tossed on the bed like a ragdoll.

"I am not human, Dean." Castiel began evenly, he removed his coat and tie and began unbuttoning his shirt. He was pleased to see a look of horrified fascination on Dean's face. His voice was level, but anger and desire were boiling just under the surface. "You seem to forget that I am an angel of the lord. I am superior to you in many ways." He maintained eye contact as he unbuttoned the last button of his shirt and dropped it on the floor beside him. He stood, bare-chested, in the middle of the tiny room. He watched with satisfaction as Dean's eyes roamed over his naked torso. Summoning the familiar warmth of comfort and power inside him that was his grace, he pushed out the wings that had lain dormant inside his vessel for so long. He had allowed a glimpse of them, a shadow on the wall, to Dean. And here he was, months later, proving once again that he was the powerful celestial creature he claimed to be. The air around him crackled with electricity as he flexed and clenched his jaw, pushing the feathers out through his shoulder blades. It wasn't painful; in fact it was refreshing after keeping them in so long, however, after months of not letting them out, it took a moment longer than usual. Usually he could push them out in the blink of an eye, this time was not so. Finally, great black wings stretched above his head up down to where the tips of the bottom feathers gently scraped the floor. He shuffled them, adjusting to the new environment, and stretched them out to the side until they were brushing the walls, the soft rustling of each individual feather filling the silent room.

"Damn Cas." Dean gulped from where he was sprawled on the bed, his eyes were wide, and his mouth gaping. His adams apple bobbed up and down as he tried to force more words out. Cas came to stand next to the bed, wings spread out ominously behind him and filling up the whole room.

"Now Dean," Castiel leaned over the hunter on the bed, forcing him on his back. From such a close distance he saw that Dean's pupils were blown. "Are you ready to learn?" He brought himself up onto the bed so he was kneeling between Dean's knees, his wings looming far above his head, blocking out the overhead light in the room. He inched his face closer to Dean while experimentally running his trembling hand up Dean's arm. He could feel the warmth emanating into his fingertips and up his arm, his heart was beating so fast, his breath coming in short gasps. Dean's eyes flicked down to where Cas' hand had begun trailing down his torso. When Cas reached Dean's waistband he pushed his hand underneath the thin cotton tee, feeling the toned muscles that so far he had only observed. Dean didn't move an inch as he leaned down, hand still under the shirt, and pressed their mouths together gently. The touch was too much, and Cas felt himself being catapulted past the point of no return and didn't care. All of his newfound emotions flooded his veins, and before he knew it the gentle kiss had turned ravenous. Dean gasped and Castiel took advantage of the opening, slipping his tongue into Dean's mouth. His erection pulsed against the rough fabric of his pants, and in a swift motion he tore Dean's shirt off, the loud rip resounding through the room. He pulled away for a moment to look down at that beautiful body. He swept his hand downward and grabbed Dean's hip.

"Cas, I-" but that was all he could choke out before Cas' mouth landed on his once again. A low moan escaped the angel, the heat from Dean's body was coursing through his veins, beginning at his roaming fingertips, and ending in his groin. He could feel Dean's excitement through his jeans, and he knew that it wasn't enough. Touching and kissing wasn't enough, he need friction. Without really knowing what he was doing he ground his hips down onto Dean. _Oh._ Pleasure blossomed from his groin and spread throughout his body. It felt amazing. He ground down again, and again, establishing a rhythm and groaning into Dean's mouth. Dean finally recovered from his paralyzed state and grabbed Cas' shoulders, pulling him down so their bodies were touching. Cas moved from his mouth and kissed sloppily down his jaw to his neck where he bit down, Dean hissed and dug his nails into the skin of his back. They rocked together, legs intertwined, feverishly kissing each other, and frantically moaning. It was then that Cas knew that he wanted something, and he wanted it _now_. He leaned back on his heels and began fumbling with the hunters' belt. After a few frustrating tries to get the jeans off, he pulled on his grace, and in the blink of an eye both of them were naked. He _needed_ this _._ His wings rustled with anticipation as he spat on his hand and slickened himself. He positioned himself at the other man's entrance. That was when he looked up.

Pure, unadulterated terror was etched into every one of Dean's features, causing Cas to falter.

"Dean, I won't go through with this if you don't want me to." He waited, and Dean looked up to meet his gaze. He may have been angry, he may have felt hurt and betrayed, but he was still an angel, and angels do not enter bodies without consent, he figured this counted. Below him, Dean gulped, smiled nervously and nodded. Castiel eased himself inside the hunter. It was almost too much, it was hot and wet and oh he had never felt anything like this. He fully sheathed himself inside and gasped. He hungrily kissed the hunter as he began pumping his hips rhythmically. Suddenly, he felt the tip rub up against something, causing Dean to moan loudly and dig his nails into Cas' back again.

"Oh god Cas!" He shouted. "What the hell was that?!" Experimentally, he pressed himself into that precise spot again and felt Dean's entire body shudder beneath him. He thrust his hips repeatedly into that particular spot,

"Don't stop Cas." Dean ground out, and that was all the angel needed. Castiel slammed into the hunter again, earning himself a low groan that resonated throughout Dean's entire body. He gripped Dean's hips and slammed into him again, going a little faster this time. He knew he was doing something right as he heard Dean's breathing matching his tempo. He could feel something building up in the pit of his stomach. His senses were heightened and he could feel all of the heat and sweat from himself and the man he was inside. Dean's breath hitched when the angel reached between them and enveloped Dean in his hand. He matched his hand evenly with the tempo his hips were pumping, stroking up and down the shaft, twisting gently and brushing his thumb over the tip. "Cas," Dean breathed, there was a thin layer of sweat over his whole body. "Y-You gotta slow down man, or I'm not gonna make it." Castiel smiled angrily in the dark.

"You will not come until I say you can Dean." He said menacingly as he slammed himself harder and applied light pressure with his hand, picking up his pace. Dean moaned and sunk his head further into the bed, jerking his hips to Cas' momentum; he clenched the sheets hard enough to turn his knuckles white. Cas leaned down and kissed Dean hard on the mouth while gripping his hips a little harder, then he trailed a line of hard, wet kisses to Dean's neck. "Beg me for it, Dean." He breathed into Dean's ear, making him shutter. He leaned back up and started thrusting into him faster.

"Cas, please." Dean pleaded.

"No."

"Please, for the love of God!"

"No!" Castiel could feel that he was on the verge. The sweet pressure trailing from the pit of his stomach down to the base of his erection. He pushed it off, relishing in the fact that he was in control. He was in control of the alcoholic, pessimistic, aggressive, exasperating, and stubborn Dean Winchester, and he was not going to let him win.

"Castiel, angel of the friggin lord, please let me come!" Dean shouted, and that was the push Castiel needed, suddenly he was over the edge.

"Come for me Dean!" Castiel roared as he felt the pressure finally push itself out of him. He heard Dean give out a strangled moan as he dug his nails deeper into the man's hips, and felt Dean's member convulse with orgasm in his hand. It was the most exhilarating experience of his life. Everything from his sweet release, to the feeling of Dean beneath and around him was unlike anything he had ever felt. He squeezed his eyes shut to feel everything that he could; vaguely hearing the television set shatter and the wood in the bed splinter. His heart was pounding in his chest, stars clouding his lidded eyes, and blood rushing in his ears as he released himself into Dean. When his climax was over he sat back on his heels and looked down at his charge. Dean lay there, breathing heavily, covered in blood, sweat and semen. He opened his eyes and looked up at Cas, confusion plastered over his face. Castiel pulled himself out of the hunter and stood, pulling his wings back into his body in the blink of an eye.

"We must get you back now." He stated, and before Dean could even argue, he was unconscious and clothed. Castiel took a moment to stare at him before pulling his own clothes on. It was in that moment, that simple second, that Castiel understood what love was, and he felt the pang of despair as he realized that it was not likely that Dean would love him back. Shaking his head he propped Dean up on his shoulder and transported them.

* * *

Sam was getting very upset with Bobby, questioning him as to where the hell Adam had gotten to.

"He was right in front of me, then he disappeared into thin air." Said Bobby.

"Because the angels took him." With a rush of air and the sound of fluttering wings, Dean and Castiel appeared in the living room to their left. Sam looked over, startled. Castiel was supporting a bloody, bruised, unconscious Dean. He had his arm around his waist and his other hand holding Dean's arm that was slung around his shoulders.

"What the hell happened to him?" Sam demanded, gesturing at his brother.

"Me." Cas replied solidly, staring at Sam and silently begging him not to press further. When Sam didn't pursue the subject, the angel carefully moved himself and Dean over to the bed underneath the window in Bobby's living room. He laid Dean down as gently down on the bed as possible. Cas may have still been angry at the hunters' choices, but he could not bring himself to hurt him anymore tonight. He took a quick second to stare down at his charge, a renewed affection dulling the anger he had had moments before. He turned at the sound of rolling wheels.

"What do you mean the angels took Adam? You branded his ribs didn't you?" Bobby questioned from the doorway.

"Yes, Adam must have tipped them." He said simply and, with a flutter of wings, was gone. Sam turned to Bobby who shrugged. He ran his hand through his hair and let out an exasperated sigh.


	9. Conversations and Plans

It had been weeks since Sam had walked in on his brother underneath his male companion, and the air had been tense. He had tried to approach the subject a few times, but after having to dodge a few swings, he had decided that it would be best if he were to just let it go. As it was, the angels had Adam and they were deciding the best course of action, but Sam could tell that between the three of them, none of their heads were in the game. Bobby had to keep snapping them back to attention, and after holding a one-sided conversation for ten minutes he gave up and left the house.

This left Sam, Castiel, and Dean standing awkwardly in the living room. Dean had been pointedly not looking at the angel, and Castiel continued to stare at something just on the other side of the room, somber expression pulling at his features. He was standing practically on the other side of the room from Dean, who had picked up a book and started flipping through the dusty pages. Sam looked between the two of them, growing more frustrated by the moment. Right when he had opened his mouth to say something, Dean cleared his throat, straightened, mumbled something inaudible and left the room. Sam closed his mouth with an audible click as Dean pushed past him and up the stairs.

A few awkward moments passed of Cas staring up the stairs after his brother, and Sam rubbing his neck and arguing with himself over whether or not he should ask the question going over and over in his mind.

"I suppose I'll just be-"

"Are you in love with my brother?" Sam blurted out, clearly taking the angel by surprise.

"Of course not." Cas replied, just a touch too hastily. His voice had become strained, he was giving a fake toothy grin, and all the color had drained from his face. Sam cocked an eyebrow at the angel, obviously knowing he was not telling the whole truth. After a few minutes Cas dropped the fake grin, and sat down on the couch behind him, a small puff of dust coming out under his weight. He put his head in his hands and sighed, looking very small and very human. After a few more minutes of awkward silence Sam took a step closer to the couch.

"Cas, I know we're not close and I'm pretty sure you don't exactly like me, but even so. I know my brother and I'm just looking out for him so I need to know. Do you – ya know – love him or something?"

"It's not that simple Sam." Cas began, speaking quietly to the floor. "I could not have partaken in any form of sexual activity with your brother if I felt nothing more than primitive lust for him, it would have been adulterous. We share a more…" He paused, removing his hands from his face and staring down at them as though he'd never seen them before. " _Profound_ bond. Whether or not he realizes it, I am bonded to him." His cheeks tinged pink and Sam leaned in a little closer, not sure what he was hearing. "When I raised him from perdition, I stormed Hell. It was the most important mission I had ever been on, that I most likely will ever be on again." He faltered for a moment before clearing his throat and continuing. "Six of us went in to retrieve the Righteous Man, only I returned. When I finally found your brother he had been torturing a man, I told him I had come to rescue him." Castiel shifted and clasped his hands before looking up at Sam. "He fought me, shouting that he didn't need to be saved. I was under orders; I was to bring him back to the living, whatever it took. His soul was so broken, so full of hatred and self-loathing that there was no way I was going to be able to bring him to the surface and he survive the trip. I did the only thing I could think of; I imbued him with some of my Grace."

"You did _what?_ " Sam sputtered. "What does that even mean?" Castiel sat back and narrowed his eyes at the younger Winchester.

"It does not change who he is," He began slowly, Sam visibly relaxed. "A grace-sharing ritual is generally used to mate angels." Sam sat down hard against the desk, he looked at Cas bug-eyed. Castiel saw the verge of panic and continued. "However, I had to think quickly because Dean is not an angel, and I did not wish to mate myself with him. I did something similar, but not exact. I only gave him enough of my Grace to smooth over the cracks in his soul so I could retrieve him. That is why he has the handprint on his arm."

"From your Grace?" Sam said slowly.

"Yes." Cas tinged pink again and began speaking again, more quietly this time and Sam had to lean in to hear. "My Grace does not affect him, not any more than a scar, it has since burned out." Something clicked in Sam's brain and he leaned back slightly.

"But it affects you."

"I-" Cas looked up to meet Sam's eyes before dropping them once again to the floor and nodding. "Yes. It does. Not so much anymore, but I have never been mated. I have never shared my Grace with anyone, angel or otherwise," Cas rubbed his neck in a very human gesture before he shrugged. "I've never had occasion to."

"So, what does that mean then?"

"It _means_ that I am simply more in tune to my own – emotions – toward your brother than I would be otherwise. Emotions which have been more than.." He paused, searching for the right word. "Friendly." Sam nodded, he understood. He may not completely agree, but he understood. Castiel sighed again and stood from the couch. "Dean is under the illusion that he is not a homosexual." Sam reeled back at the sudden change of topic.

"Well, I – What?" He responded eloquently.

"Being an angel I can sometimes read people's thoughts. I generally choose not to, at least not anymore, but with my Grace being inside Dean, sometimes the loudest of his thoughts scream into mine, and I have no choice."

"Okay..?" Sam said cautiously, not sure he wanted to know where this was going.

"Whenever we engage in anything sexual, his thoughts scream into my head 'I am not gay'." He tilted his head to the side and stared at Sam. "Obviously he must be, if he is engaging in sexual acts with a man, although I'm not necessarily a man. Only my vessel is male, angels don't have genders."

"Okay, that's enough." Sam interrupted, shifting uncomfortably.

"What?" Castiel narrowed his eyes and Sam shifted again, he suddenly felt a kinship with ants under magnifying glasses.

"Look," Sam sighed and slid a hand through his hair mulling the words together in his head before speaking them. "Dean and I – well we're not exactly the best at expressing emotions that expose weakness; like love. If something bad knows you love something, what you love becomes the target. I loved Jessica more than anything, and she was targeted and died because of me. That's what this business does; it kills people, even us. I'm sure even you will die too, probably soon considering how happy you've made Dean – "

"He doesn't seem too happy at the moment."

"Because you've proven to him that he's vulnerable. Right now you're his weak spot, and he just realized it. As for the gay thing, that's probably something you'll have to deal with. Our father instilled a lot of his ideals into our heads, one of them being mildly homophobic." He sighed again. "And as for the freaky angel grace thing, you're going to want to tell him about that before he finds out on his own."

"Why? It does nothing to him, only to me."

"Because he doesn't like people messing around in his head, even if it was before he met you, besides, it's kind of weird." He shrugged and regarded Cas who shook his head.

"His emotions are so complex and uncontrollable. What do I do?"

"Give him some space." Sam replied simply, staring at the angel. With a minute nod, there was a flutter of wings and Sam was alone.

* * *

"I've got a plan." Dean said as we walked back into the living room, his hair was dripping wet from having taken a shower. "When Zachariah took me into the white room he left me there for a while, if we could find that white room we could grab Adam, kill that dick angel and Michael wouldn't possess anyone."

"Okay," Sam replied, he had moved to the couch and was nursing a beer, trying not to think too much about how creepy the angel-mating thing was. "But where _is_ the white room."

Dean thought about this for a moment. "I don't know, but we should probably get researching, since it looks like the nerd angel disappeared again. Figures." As Dean turned away Sam saw the smallest glimmer of sadness pass over his features. He shook his head and hoped he would get over it.


	10. Space

After hours of researching, Dean's eyes were beginning to get tired from flipping through the book he had been given. Daylight had long since faded and been replaced with the table lamps in Bobby's living room as the three men sat around, the smell of old books filling the air. Bobby had returned shortly after Dean had announced his plan and, after hearing about Dean's idea, had put them to work flipping through every sheaf of paper he could vaguely recall having the word 'angel' on it.

"I got jack on any holy holding cells, you guys?" Dean asked, looking up from his book and taking a swig of beer. He was on his third one and was hoping to have four more before the night was up. He had decided that drowning his various emotions was better than facing them. As he saw it, he didn't have any emotions right now. He was just the hardened hunter that he had always been. He had pushed Castiel completely out of his mind and planned to continue until he was dull inside again. All he was supposed to care about was the looming apocalypse and the welfare of his little brother. There was no room for infatuations of any sort, whether it be for woman or man, or angel in a man suit. He had been blocking Cas out of his mind and life since they had gotten caught by Sam, but it wasn't just the physicality's of their strange relationship he found himself missing. It was the angel's stoic nature and up-front personality that he missed. No, he didn't miss Castiel. He couldn't allow himself to. He didn't miss Castiel.

"I got nothing." Replied Bobby from his spot behind his desk, pulling Dean out of his reverie.

"Wait, here's something." Sam spoke up, not looking up from the text. "It says here that there's a place to keep the holiest of humans on Earth since they can't survive in Heaven."

"Keep going." Dean prodded.

"It says it's in a sanctuary unable to be found but by those who know the location."

"So, we're screwed." Dean deflated. He snapped his book shut and leaned back against the couch, taking another swig.

"It seems to me, you need to make the call." Bobby's words cut through the silence like a knife, Dean's eyes flew open and he sat up.

"No!" Dean and Sam shouted in unison. Dean narrowed his eyes at Sam before shaking his head violently and clearing his throat. "No friggin way." He chugged the rest of his beer in record time and got up for another.

"The way I see it," Bobby called after him. "We ain't got no other choice!" Dean came back, still shaking his head.

"And the way I see it," Dean spat. "We've been doing this for years without him!"

"In case you haven't noticed princess, we haven't been dealing with _ANGELS_ till he came around!"

"We can figure it out!"

"And how do you expect we do that? Wave our magic wands and the place will be lit up in Christmas lights? It doesn't work that way Dean! We need his help!"

"I DON'T NEED HIM BOBBY!"

The air was still as Dean stood shaking and flushed in the middle of the living room, fingers white-knuckled against the bottle he was gripping. Bobby looked shocked at the outburst and Sam sat, afraid to move a muscle. They stayed like that for what felt like an eternity. It wasn't Sam who broke the silence, nor was it Bobby, or even Dean. It was a faint fluttering of wings.

Castiel suddenly stood a foot away from Dean, seemingly unaware of what had just happened. "I've come to offer assistance. I have found where the angels are keeping Adam." Dean took a step back, quickly ignoring his skipped heartbeat.

"What, so now you've been listening in on our conversations?!" Dean rounded on him, he got right up in his face and began yelling, but the angel did not flinch or fluster.

"No."

"You just hear your name and your ears prick up like a dog?!"

"No."

"Then how did you know we were going for him?!"

"It is your nature, Dean." Dean could feel the angel's stare boring into what felt like his soul. Those emotions he was suppressing welled up in his veins and for a moment he almost let them through. He shook his head and righted himself, maybe if he stayed angry he could drive the angel off. Maybe, just maybe, he could get away from those too blue eyes that incited a great big _something_ in the pit of his stomach that he couldn't quite figure out. He decided then and there that it had to be anger. He had to make Castiel hate him, because if he didn't, Cas would come to the conclusion himself and Dean couldn't do it. It was so much easier to let go of someone who hated you. And Dean had to let go, he would go crazy if he didn't.

"Well, if you hadn't gone and stopped me from giving myself to Michael, Adam would be fine, wouldn't he?! So it's _your_ fault. In the end _you_ stuck him in that position, didn't you!"

"I did what I thought was right. I unsuspectingly traded him for you." His eyes hardened, and Dean reciprocated. The air seemed to vanish from the room, the only things left were the two of them. Cas narrowed his eyes at Dean. "Do you want the location, or not?" Dean faltered for a moment, before drawing anger from within himself. He seethed at the angel, rage rolling off him in waves. Cas stood there unwavering, watching him closely with that annoying head tilt he did, wearing that stupid oversized trench coat, with his stupid backwards tie. Dean sneered and glared, _why doesn't he just look away_? He wondered to himself, but he couldn't tear his eyes away from those stupid blue eyes with the millennia of knowledge behind them. After what felt like an eternity, to their left, Sam cleared his throat.

"So, where is this room?"

"I can bring you." Neither of them looked away, Dean felt his fury at the angel heat up to a rolling boil in his veins. _How could he be so calm right now?_

"Well, that's that." Sam got up and headed toward the two in the middle of the room, hoping to pull them apart. "Bobby we'll – " But before he could finish his sentence, there were fingers on his forehead and he was zapped to the middle of a parking lot right outside of an abandoned warehouse.

"Where the hell are we?" Dean asked roughly as soon as he felt his feet on the ground. He and Sam followed Cas as he began walking quickly alongside the building.

"Van Nuys, California."

"Well that's just great Cas. Van Nuys. Really? Where the hell is the beautiful room?" Dean asked harshly, rolling his eyes and practically jogging to keep up with Cas.

"In there."

"Tell me again why you don't just grab Adam and shazam the hell out of there." Sam said from his spot beside Dean. They stopped suddenly beside a door and Cas turned quickly to face them, his coat billowing out behind him.

"Because there are at least five angels in there." There was a dangerous determination set in his face, only enhanced by his grave tone.

"So? You're fast."

"They're faster." Dean watched as the man in front of him removed his tie and wrapped it around his hand. "I'll clear them out, you two grab the boy. This is our only chance."

"Woah, wait wait wait. You're going to take on five angels?!" Dean gaped incredulously at Cas, who stared back coolly.

"Yes."

"Isn't that suicide?" Sam asked, blinking between the two men.

"Maybe it is." Cas paused, pulling a box cutter out of his pocket and turning around. There was deafening silence as Dean and Sam watch the angel's back. His head bowed and hand moving furiously, occasionally they heard him hiss in pain. After another minute, he turned around. The knife was covered in blood and his shirt was unbuttoned, revealing a sliver of blood-stained skin. His eyes flickered to Sam and landed back on Dean. "But this is the only solution I can think of that will save Adam while also giving you space from me." He didn't wait for an answer as he walked inside the warehouse.

Dean stood there, gawking at the air where Cas had been standing. Sam watched emotions flash over his face as he heard the battle rage inside the warehouse.

"That stupid, selfish, self-sacrificing, son of a bitch!" Dean screamed at the sky and he kicked the ground. Sam shushed him, but he didn't hear, all the anger he had been forcing himself to feel turned real and suddenly nothing mattered. "I swear Sam. I swear if he's not dead in there!" Sam grabbed his arm when he didn't hear anything inside the warehouse. "I'll friggin kill him!" He shouted as Sam pulled him into the warehouse. "You hear me Sam? I'll _KILL_ – " but the last word died on his lips as he took in the expanse of the empty warehouse. Cas was nowhere to be found. "That selfish son of a bitch." Dean whispered, shoulders slumped. Sam knew they couldn't wait around, so he tugged Dean again and pulled them into the beautiful room.


	11. Gods and Walls

After they entered the beautiful room, Sam watched, helpless and bleeding on the floor as Dean said yes. He said yes to Zachariah to be Michaels' vessel and Sam felt his stomach drop, then Dean winked, and in the flash of an eye, Zachariah was dead, but at the expense of Adam, who had been unable escape after the door slammed shut and locked behind them. They tugged and banged on the door, heard the tell-tale sound of an angel and Adam screaming, then everything was deafeningly quiet. Dean threw the door open and ran back in the room, now an old abandoned office, and shouted every obscenity in the book. Sam stood there limply while his brother screamed and cursed and kicked things. When he had worn himself out, he stopped. With a grim resolve, he walked briskly out of the office and out of the warehouse and kept walking. Sam jogged a little to catch up, he wasn't even sure Dean noticed he was there. They walked until they reached a bus station, and they took the bus back to Bobby's house. Not a word was exchanged between them, and Sam had followed like the good little brother he was. As soon as they made it back to Bobby's, Dean didn't even go in the house. He stepped out of the bus, Sam on his heels, and immediately got in the impala. Sam had just hopped into the passenger seat and shut the door when Dean started the car and hit the gas.

Sam didn't ask where they were going. That was one of the funny things about Dean; there were times when he would get so upset that he would just shut down. It had happened before when he had returned from Hell, and when their father had died. Sam had tried before to talk to him, but it never worked, he'd be lucky enough to get a grunt out of the man, usually Dean just ignored him. While this happening was a rarity, it was nothing short of disastrous when it did, mainly because it seemed the only comfort Dean could find in the world was from the sleek black impala he adored. He'd drive until he had calmed himself – or whatever he did - , or until he ran out of gas.

Sam also didn't bother trying to talk; he'd just waste his breath. He resolved himself to staring out the window at the passing scenery. Dark green trees, yellow fields, and gray residential areas flew past the window. Sam watched the moon dip below the horizon as the sky lit up like fire with the sunrise. He yawned and stretched and looked over to his brother. Dean's mouth was pressed in a hard line, his brows furrowed as he continued staring through the windshield. Sam sighed and resigned himself to continuing to stare out the window. The sun had just barely descended beneath the trees when the sky turned black and rumbled ominously; before they knew it the heavens had opened up and rained down a storm of biblical proportions. There was nowhere along the road they could stop for the night, and only after they had taken a detour off I-90 into Muncie, Indiana of all places, did they see a hotel, lit up in fluorescents, to wait out the storm.

"Let's keep driving." Said Sam, although his growling stomach disagreed. "This place looks kind of sketchy to me."

"Too bad." They pulled into the parking lot.

"The Elysian Fields Hotel." Sam said, looking around and shaking himself off as they walked in the door. Rain water was dripping from his hair down the back of his neck. The lobby of the hotel was lit and buzzing with people. The floor was a warm wood contrasted nicely with white furniture, a soft melody coming over the speakers, and there was a _fireplace_. Sam thought to himself that this _had_ to be at least four stars.

"Nice digs for once." Dean responded blandly. They went up to the concierge, where a short thin fellow with a red jacket stood typing endlessly on a keyboard. His name tag read 'Chad', he glanced up and smiled as they approached, but did not stop typing.

"Busy night?"

"A port in the storm I guess." The concierge smiled at them and handed them a clipboard. "If you could just fill this out please." He smiled and waited but his attention diverted quickly to Dean. "Sir, I think you've got a little shaving nick there." He handed him a kleenex and Dean wiped the blood from his neck. Sam thought for a moment, Dean hadn't shaved since yesterday, or maybe the day before. He shook off the ominous feeling settling in his stomach. Chad held up a jingling key toward them. "Your key."

"Oh thanks," Dean said distractedly, holding the kleenex to his neck. "You wouldn't happen to have a coffee shop would you?" Sam looked closer at his brother, just noticing the dark circles settling under his eyes.

"Buffet," The concierge replied, gesturing to his right. "All you can eat." He leaned forward, as though sharing a secret. "Best pie in the tri-state area." Sam smiled internally as he watched Dean perk up, if only slightly. They walked into the dining room, immediately being bombarded with the smells of warm food and sweets. The dining room was decorated with rich red table cloths, white chairs, and black walls. Sam had already gotten his food and was sat down when Dean finished up at the buffet, only getting himself a piece of pie. He picked at his food and looked up, just in time to watch his brother get rejected by a lovely bronze-skinned woman in a red dress, twice, before he had managed to even make any kind of move. He grimaced and looked down at his food, getting lost in his thoughts. On the one hand, Sam was glad to see his brother seemingly get back to his normal self. For all the flaws Dean had, he really was a solid, dependable man. On the other hand, Sam knew that this was all just a façade he was putting up, a wall so that he didn't have to face his demons, or in this case, his angel. However, there was something to be said about his defenses, no matter what was going on, no matter what problems Dean might be facing, Sam knew that his brother would always be the strong one, the dependable one, all because of that façade. He realized then that, as hard as it was to admit, in the deep recesses of his thoughts, he was glad that Cas was gone. Cas being gone meant he could get his older brother back, and for the most part, he was right.

"Sam, unpucker man, eat something." Sam looked up as Dean sat across the table from him.

"We should hit the road, Dean." Sam began cautiously. Dean grabbed his fork and heartily dug it into his lemon meringue pie. He pulled the bite into his mouth and scooped up another one and swallowed before looking up.

"In this storm?"

"It's biblical, I know, but I'm not giving up."

"Nobody's giving up, Bobby's got his feelers out. We'll find a way to beat the Devil soon, and you're no good to me burnt out. Okay?" Dean scooped up another bite and shoved it into his mouth. Sam nodded slowly and studied the man across the table from him for a moment, almost sure that maybe Dean was okay.

"We should be looking for Adam," He prodded gently, surveying his brother. "Or Cas." At this Dean froze; a bite of pie halfway to his mouth. Beneath those green eyes Sam could practically see a war raging on. Finally, he sighed and set the fork down on his plate before standing and walking out of the dining room grumbling something along the lines of "won't even let me enjoy my friggin pie." Sam called after him, and when he got no response he shook his head and finished his meal before grudgingly following Dean to their room.

When he finally made his way back to the door he heard giggling, he looked over to see a couple making out in front of their own door, which was the room next to theirs, Sam noted. He opened the door and hoped that they wouldn't be too loud; he thought he might actually want to get some sleep tonight. The lights in the room were out when he stepped inside, and when he shut the door behind him he was submerged in complete darkness. He could barely make out Dean's silhouette in the bed on the far side of the room. "Dean." He whispered, no response. He groped in the darkness to find the other bed, finally his shin found it and he cursed under his breath, holding the affronted limb. He pulled off his clothes, climbed on the bed and slipped in between the sheets. Sam knew that Dean could not have fallen asleep so quickly, but he let it slide, and instead wondered why such a nice hotel was in the middle of nowhere. Soon, his thoughts fuzzed over, he hadn't realized just how tired he was until he felt the soft sheets below him and the warm blanket above. Before he knew it he had slipped into unconsciousness.

* * *

_No…_

_No… Please._

_PLEASE DON'T!_

Sam awoke suddenly, unsure why. He looked over at Dean in the other bed, he had kicked all of his covers off and was sweating, his face pained.

"Don't leave me!" He yelled, thrashing his legs and twisting up the sheets. "Don't go." His voice had fallen into a whisper, and he started crying, not great moaning sobs, but soft quiet tears. Sam watched in awe. "Please don't go, Cas." Sam leaned over and tapped his brother on the arm. He could faintly hear the woman from earlier moaning on the other side of the brick wall accompanied by the sound of a bed thumping. Suddenly there was a huge slam on the wall and it caved in, almost knocking the television completely loose. Sam jumped and Dean sat upright, suddenly wide awake. They both scrambled to get their clothes on, completely forgetting about the drying tears still on Dean's face, and ran to the other room to investigate.

 _Well,_ Sam thought to himself, _this is just great._ After some investigation of the suddenly empty hotel, he and Dean had found the other guests locked in a freezer, and of course that led to them being locked in a room with about a dozen Pagan Gods such as Odin, Kali, Ganesh, and Baldur. As luck would have it everything from the detour, to the rain, to the hotel was a trap and the Winchester brothers had found themselves at the hotel like rats in a maze. They were bargaining chips for the gods against the impending apocalypse. "This is not good." Sam leaned over and said softly, Dean nodded in approval. Just then Odin and Zao Shen began arguing, over what Sam couldn't tell, he didn't speak whatever language that was. The brothers had looked at each other, and used to distraction to try to sneak away, right before a chandelier crashed at their feet. They turned around slowly as Kali – the woman Dean had tried to hit on earlier, Sam noticed – stood up. Kali was talking about violence and bloodshed, but Sam wasn't listening, he was looking over all the exits, trying to figure out how to get out of this one. However, much like a hamster on a wheel, he was getting nowhere fast. He looked over at Dean to see him standing there, attentive and alert. He was watching all of the exchanges, and Sam could practically see the wheels in his head turning, searching for a way out. Sam found that he was ironically happy about being trapped in a room full of Gods who could kill them with a passing thought. The fact that innocent lives were on the line, and there was imminent danger meant that Dean could push everything else out of his head, including his angel, and that wall was as good as built.

"Can't we all just get along?" Came a voice from behind him. Sam whipped around to find a short, honey-blond haired man standing in front of the doors.

"Gabri-?" Sam said, his heart tightening in his chest, but with a flick of his hand, the archangel cut off their ability to speak, choking off the rest of the word.

"Sam, Dean." Gabriel stepped closer to them. "It's always wrong place worst time with you muttonheads, isn't it?" Sam stared down the archangel, completely confused. Something clicked into place when he heard a man speak somewhere behind him.

"Loki."

"Baldur, nice seeing you too. I guess my invitation got lost in the mail?" Gabriel replied, smooth as honey. Sam and Dean exchanged glances.

"What are you doing here?"

"To talk about the elephant in the room." The black man with the name tag 'Ganesh' began to stand, indignant. "Not you," Gabriel amended, Ganesh sat back down. "The Apocalypse. We can't stop it. But first things first." He spun around to face the Winchesters once again. "The adults need to have a little conversation. Check you later!" He snapped his fingers and Dean and Sam found themselves in one of the many rooms in the hotel.

"Alright, so what's our next move?" Sam asked.

"I-I-I... I don't know. Grab those poor saps outta the freezer, I guess? Bust them out? Gank a few freaks along the way if we're lucky?"

"And when are you ever lucky?" Gabriel chimed in from his spot on the couch where he had materialized behind Dean. Sam and Dean turned to Gabriel, and after some bickering and blackmail, they developed a plan to save the innocent people in the cooler, and leave.

* * *

"All right you primitive screwheads, listen up." Dean said loudly, standing from his chair.

"Are you out of your mind?" Sam whispered to his brother. The plan had failed, Gabriel had been found out and Kali had killed him, Sam glanced over to where Gabriel's lifeless body sat in the chair.

"I'm outta options." Dean whispered back. He stood and spoke again. "Now on any other given day, I'd be doing my damndest to, uh, kill you - you filthy, murdering chimps. But, hey, desperate times. So even though I'd love nothing better than to slit your throats, you dicks," He paused, smiled, picked up a bottle of amber liquid, turned his back and began pouring himself a glass. "I'm gonna help you. I'm going to help you ice the devil." He turned back around to face the room. "And then we can all get back to ganking each other, like normal. You want Lucifer, well, dude's not in the Yellow Pages. But me and Sam, we can get him here." Sam watched his brother attentively, his back was straight, he was speaking clearly and his chin was held high. He had a plan.

"How?" Kali asked.

"First you let those main courses go. Then we talk. We can either take on the devil together, or you lame-ass bitches can eat me." Sam rolled his eyes. "Literally." Dean finished his speech, smiled, and drank from his glass. That was it, his old brother was back, and Sam would be lying if he said he wasn't happier for it.


	12. Understanding

Sam was happy. Although all the Gods but Kali had been killed, as well as Gabriel (this time for real), they had found out how to lock Lucifer back in his cage, and Dean had been acting like himself. All in all, things were looking up. Sam smiled to himself and began bobbing his head to the song on the radio "Carry on my Wayward Son" by Kansas. Dean sat beside him in the driver's seat, expression blank as he stared at the open road. Sam didn't think too much of it, after all, he'd prefer his brother adamantly watch the road rather than not. With a few more chords, Carry on my Wayward Son was over, and a soft guitar melody began streaming out of the car speakers. Sam didn't recognize the tune right away, but out of the corner of his eye, he saw Dean become more animated. Curious, he looked to his left and saw his brother mouthing the lyrics to the song on the radio which he recognized to be "All Out of Love" by Air Supply. Upon noticing his audience, Dean stopped promptly and Sam looked away, feeling bewildered. He watched out of the corner of his eye as his brother continued mouthing along to the song as he thought no one was watching.

As Sam leaned over to shut off the radio he slowly felt his relief at having Dean back to being himself dissipate.

The rest of the car ride back to Bobby's had been uneventful, Sam lost in his thoughts, Dean doing nothing but stare at the road. Bobby's would be where they would stay until they had somewhere to investigate that may be linked with Pestilence. When they got back to the familiar run-down house, they both went inside, Dean went directly to the guest room and Sam lingered behind in order to inform Bobby of what they had discovered about Lucifer and the horsemen rings.

"We have War and Famine, so all that's left is Pestilence and Death. So keep an ear out for anything that might point to either one, okay?" Sam said finishing up. The old hunter nodded his head thoughtfully.

"You wanna tell me what's been goin' on with Dean?" He asked after a few minutes of silence. Sam felt the color drain from his face as he tried to decide whether or not to tell Bobby the truth. Bobby saw his mental dilemma and decided to help in the process. "I want the truth Sam. I may be old but I ain't dumb, and ain't nothin' can surprise me anymore."

"I wouldn't be so sure of that." Sam said with an uncomfortable chuckle. He took a deep breath and told Bobby the whole story.

* * *

"And he was mouthing along with it whenever he thought I wasn't looking, so I turned it off." Sam finished one hour and eight beers later -four for each of them, he had told Bobby everything that he knew, from beginning to end, but he hadn't gotten into details during the more _adult_ parts. Bobby, for his part, sat in his chair solemnly, waiting for Sam to finish his story. Once he did, he sat there for a few moments, mulling over the new information.

"Why'd you tell him to give Dean space?"

Sam sputtered, taken aback. Of all the things he had just told the old hunter, _that's_ what he has questions about? "I-I thought I was helping, y'know?" He shrugged. "I figured it would be the best for Dean."

"Would it be the best for Dean, or the best for you?"

Sam contemplated this for a second; he knew that he had had the best of intentions when he had told the angel to leave Dean alone. Or at least, he thought he had.

"I think you need to think about this long and hard, Sam." And with that, Bobby rolled into the kitchen a faint "idgits" trailing behind him, leaving Sam alone with his thoughts. After a few minutes of chasing his own tail, Sam stood and padded down the short hallway to the guest room. He stopped and gently rapped on the door.  
"Dean?"

"Go 'way Sam." Dean's voice was muffled through the door. Sam opened the door anyway, thankful it wasn't locked. Once he could see clearly inside the room, his heart sank. Dean sat on the bed, back to the door, an empty bottle of Jack Daniel's sitting on the night stand beside him, a half full glass in his hand.

"I told you to leave me alone." Dean said roughly. He didn't turn to face him. Sam stood in the doorway, unsure if he should go in. He finally decided against it and leaned up against the doorjamb.

"A lot's been going on lately Dean-"

"No."

"I just think you need to-"

"No."

"If you would just-!"

"No Sam." Finally, Dean turned around to face Sam, his liquor sloshing on the bed along the way. His cheeks and ears were bright red, his eyes bloodshot, he was wobbling slightly from where he sat, glaring up at Sam. "You want to sit around and braid hair? Should I put on 'Earth Angel' so we can hug and cry?" He drank deeply and turned back around. His shoulders slumped forward and he sighed. "Forget it."

"I heard you, at the Hotel. You were yelling in your sleep, begging Cas not to go." He paused and rubbed the back of his neck. "You gotta talk about it Dean." There was a long pause where the only sound was that of Dean's steady breathing and the clock ticking on the wall.

"He's gone Sam, I can't change that. Just leave me alone."

Sam opened his mouth to say something, but shook his head instead, and left the room without another word.

* * *

Over the next three days Dean only came out of the guest room to do one of three things, either eat, go to the restroom, or shower, and any conversation struck up by either Sam or Bobby was ended quickly when Dean would walk away with an indifferent grunt.

"Have you heard anything about where Pestilence is?" Sam asked after Dean had disappeared again.

"Not since the last time you asked."

"I just think I need to get Dean out on a hunt. He needs something to get his mind off Cas."

"I suppose."

"He's become this shell of himself. It's like he's dead inside Bobby." That statement brought Sam's mind reeling back to before everything happened. His eyes widened as he remembered the dream he had had seemingly eons ago. The dream where Cas kills Dean. In that moment, it all came back to him, and he felt that he understood it a little better. "Cas is killing him." Sam whispered.

"What?" Sam looked up at Bobby, eyes still wide.

"You remember that dream I told you about where Cas killed Dean?"

"Yeah, so?"

"I thought that it was supposed to mean that Cas was going to physically hurt Dean, I thought it meant that Dean was in direct danger." Sam began to pace all around the living room, using his arms to emphasize his points. He stopped and looked Bobby directly in the eye. "It meant that Cas would kill Dean, but not in the way that I thought. Cas doesn't physically kill Dean, but he does mentally, emotionally."

"But I thought you weren't having those – visions - anymore." Bobby responded.

"I'm not, that must be why I only saw metaphors, not exactly what would happen. Don't you see Bobby?"

The old hunter was about to respond when his phone rang. Sam had begun pacing again, his train of thought going so fast he had to struggle to catch up. He didn't hear what Bobby was saying to the person on the other line. The click of the phone signaled that the conversation was over.

"Well Sam," Bobby began, pulling him back into reality. "Sounds like a bad case of swine flu in West Nevada."

"Pestilence?"

"It's worth investigating."

"Dean!" Sam yelled excitedly. "We got a case! Come on!" After a few moments Dean emerged from the guest room, pulled on his jacket and headed out the door, Sam in tow. They got in the car, started it, and left for Nevada.


	13. Demons and Truths

They had checked out the hospital, and spoken with a nurse about the outbreak, with absolutely no clues as to the whereabouts of Pestilence. They were currently in the car on the phone with Bobby who was tracking the outbreaks, which were going across the States from West to East.

"What, so we just head East? That leaves a whole country ahead of us."

"I don't know what else to say Sam, East is our best option." Came the crackly voice of the old hunter over the phone speaker. Sam sighed, thanked Bobby, and hung up.

"East." Said Dean through the silence.

"East." Sam confirmed, and they both sighed to themselves.

"Say, I've got an idea." In the same moment, Dean swerved the car to a stop on the side of the road and Sam spun around and stabbed the seat where Crowley's voice had come from. "Fancy a fag and a chat?" Crowley stood next to the passenger's side of the parked car, leaning down so he could speak in through the open window. The Winchesters' threw their doors open and stepped out. Sam immediately went after the now backing up demon. "You're upset, I get that."

"You knew the colt wouldn't work against the Devil!" Sam shouted, continuing his advance. Crowley was pinned between the Winchesters now. "We lost people on that suicide run. _Good_ people!" Sam shouted. He brought the knife up to where the demon stood, but only managed to slice the air as Crowley teleported to behind Dean, not unlike a scared child.

"Call your dog off, please." Dean spun to face Crowley, but held Sam back from attacking again.

"Give me one good reason."

"I can give you Pestilence, that's got your interest doesn't it?"

"Are you actually listening to this?" Sam had turned around to face Dean, a disgusted look on his face.

"Sam-"

"Are you friggin' nuts!"

"Would you shut up for a second?!"

"Shut up the both of you!" Both Winchesters turned to the demon, awestruck by the outburst. "Look, I thought the Colt would work, I swear. Honest mistake, but it doesn't change things. I still want the devil dead. Well, one thing has changed, now the devil knows I want him dead. Which by the way, makes me the most buggered son in all of creation – "

"Holy crap, we don't care." Dean cut in, shaking his head and rolling his eyes. Crowley continued.

"I've been on the run, living under a rock like a bloody salamander, and now I'm in the _exact_ place I shouldn't be; in the middle of the road, talking to Sam and Dean Winchester, UNDER A FRIGGIN' SPOTLIGHT!" He pointed to the streetlamp illuminating the street above them and shattered into pieces, raining bits of glass to their left. Sam's grip tightened around the blade as he glanced sideways at Dean who was regarding the demon with a bored expression. Crowley adjusted his suit and cleared his throat before continuing at a much lower volume. "So, do you want the Horseman rings or not?" At Sam and Dean's surprised look he added. "Yes, I know all about that. Shall we?" He gestured to the Impala, and after a few moments hesitation, they all piled in.

* * *

Sam and Dean followed Crowley into the old, abandoned house, a mile down the road from where they had met up. "Here we are, my life on the lamb, how the mighty have fallen. Single pane glass, used contraception in the fireplace." He gestured toward the hearth and a roaring fire sprang to life, crackling merrily and bathing the room in a flickering orange glow.

"My heart's bleeding for you, now how do you know about the rings?"

"Ah, well... I've been keeping a close eye on you lot."

"We got hex bags, we're hidden from demons." Sam said defiantly.

"All but one. You see, when you broke into my house - our first date - I had my valet hide a tracking device in your car. A magical coin that easily trumps your little bags o' bones. It lets me hear things too, even if you're not in the car. It's a fun little coin, I can hear everything going on inside the building that your car's even in the parking lot of." He paused for emphasis, smiling dastardly at them. "And my, the things I've heard…" Dean and Sam exchanged the look of a deer in the headlights, both thinking the same thing. Crowley cleared his throat and the hunters attentions snapped back to him. "Seems like our little Dean has been having _affiliations_ with a certain angel." He leaned forward toward Dean whose mouth was agape and eyes wide. "Really, it's okay to like men. Daddy can't think any less of you." Dean went from scared to furious in a split second.

"You little-" He shouted and took a step forward, ready to swing, but Sam grabbed his jacket and pulled him back.

"It would also seem as though a certain younger Winchester told the aforementioned angel to leave his brother _alone_." Sam dropped his hold on Dean and wished he had let him take that swing. He gaped at the stocky demon in the crisp Armani suit with his smarmy British accent and couldn't remember the last time he had hated someone so much.

"You what?" Sam turned to look at Dean, and immediately he wished he hadn't. The look on Dean's face was a grotesque mask of hatred, anger, and unfathomable pain. It was almost as though Sam was watching his heart break.

"Now, Dean it wasn't like that. I-I-" Sam held his hands up in surrender as Dean advanced toward him. Sam stepped back, but Dean pushed forward until they were chest to chest.

"You told him to leave?!"

"No! I told him to give you some space. You know, so you could figure things out." Sam dropped his arms by his sides where they flopped helplessly.

"SPACE?!" Dean roared. Before Sam knew it there was a fist flying toward his face, which he dodged, but he wasn't quick enough to dodge the other one which nailed him right in his right side. Pain blossomed from his kidney, he gasped and clutched his side.

"I thought I was helping." He said feebly as he was shoved backward into the wall. Dean landed another hit in his ribs and one in his face, he could taste blood. Sam tried to shield his face with his arms, but left himself open for a gut shot, which Dean took, knocking the wind out of him. He doubled over in pain and promptly received another shot to the head. White clouded his vision and his ears were ringing, he flung his fists wildly but was blocked deftly. His vision cleared as he Dean grabbed his collar and pulled him up so they were eye level.

"It's _your_ fault he's gone." Dean spat through gritted teeth. Sam could feel the rage seething out of his brother, and suddenly he wasn't so sure why he had told the angel to leave. None of his excuses or thoughts made sense. He shook his head, defeated.

"I'm sorry, Dean." Sam pleaded. "I didn't know he would do that." Dean's eyes softened slightly, but his grip did not. He threw Sam to the floor and stormed off into the next room. Sam lay on the floor, trying to catch his breath around the choking iron taste of his own blood. He saw a pair of shiny black shoes in his peripherals. He didn't have to look up to know Crowley was standing over him. "Why did you tell him?" Sam asked, sitting up slowly and wincing at the pain in his side, he suspected he had a broken rib or two.

"I thought he should know. Besides, you can't come on this particular adventure, and I just _knew_ he'd start saying 'I'm not going without Sam'," The demon shrugged his shoulders "It's just easier this way, wouldn't you agree?" He stood straight and followed Dean into the other room. They held a quiet conversation and before long Dean left out the front door, Crowley in tow. He paused and turned to Sam. "Be good, moose. The adults are going to go do some business." And with the sound of the front door shutting, all was quiet. Sam dropped his head to the floor with a quiet 'flumf' as he was left alone to reflect on his decisions.


	14. Reunions

Sam was pacing, the weathered floor groaning in agony under each step he took, and sunlight had long since replaced the moonlight flooding the room through the dirty window. Of course Sam was worried about the increasingly long absence of his brother, but as he touched a finger to his fat lip, he found that he was more worried about what would happen when he got back. He sat down hard on the dusty couch in the living room, ignoring the puff of dust it let out and put his head in his hands. He sighed, trying –and failing- once again to stop the loop of thoughts going through his mind on repeat telling him all the ways he could have avoided this exact thing. _I could have kept my mouth shut! I could have told Dean to give himself space from Cas. I could have just turned around and left them alone that first time I saw them together!_ That thought brought up images of his brother panting and moaning underneath those giant black wings that attached to Castiel, he grimaced and shook his head. "I was just trying to help," he groaned at the empty room, rubbing his eyes vigorously. "I guess I shouldn't have been so nosy in the first place. If I could take it back I would."

"You're right about the nosy part." Sam whipped his head up to face the source of the voice, it was Dean. Behind him was a smug Crowley, smiling in his crisp suit.

"Dean!" Sam exclaimed, jumping to his feet. "Where the hell did you go? What happened?"

"There was a demon," He paused and looked over at Crowley who nodded. "He gave us the coordinates of Pestilence." Dean spoke lazily, a dead look in his eyes, as though he was giving a lecture about the physics of molecular biology, not telling Sam about how they were going to stop the apocalypse. Sam narrowed his eyes and looked between the two blood spattered men.

"That's it. He just _gave_ them to you." Sam responded skeptically.

"Well, no. Not exactly." Crowley pushed past Dean to speak to Sam. "That's why it took so long, we had to do a bit of… Negotiating." He turned back to Dean and smiled devilishly. "Your brother is quite practiced," He turned back to a frowning Sam. "But not as much as I."

"Dean..?" Sam asked, Dean shook his head at the wall he was mostly facing.

"Well boys, it's been entertaining, as always. But it would seem I've got some business to attend to, a client." He looked between the two of them. "Until next time." And with that the demon was gone.

"Dean..?" Sam stepped forward and reached out, placing his hand on his brothers' shoulder. Dean finally looked up to face him. "What happened?" Dean sagged slightly.

"The demon's name was Brady."

"Brady? No, not like…"

"Yeah. Crowley told me about how you two were friends, but he was a demon man." He tried to shrug Sam's hand off, and it was only then that Sam realized he was clutching Dean's shoulder hard. Anger boiled hot under his skin as understanding swept over him. Dean reached up and grabbed Sam's hand, forcing it off his shoulder.

"I can't believe that," Sam gasped. "He was my _friend_! He introduced me to Jess! And he was a _demon_ the whole friggin time?!"

"Yeah, looks that way."

"Is he dead?" Dean nodded slowly and Sam felt relief mix in with his anger. "Dude, why didn't you just come back here?"

"After Crowley told me who he was, we both decided it'd be better if you weren't there." Dean turned toward the door and took a step, Sam flared.

"What so you don't trust me now?" He grabbed Dean's shoulder again, but was shrugged off quickly.

"No Sam, I don't." He turned to look at Sam, his eyes were hard and his brow was furrowed. He opened his mouth to say something else, but closed it and headed for the door. Sam followed numbly, his hands hanging limply by his sides. He felt as though he had just gotten slapped across the face. He climbed in the Impala and shut the door as Dean keyed the ignition and the engine roared with life. They sped off down the highway toward Sioux Falls.

* * *

"What happened?" Bobby asked as soon as they had settled in the living room. The ride back had been uneventful, and extremely quiet.

"We got some – help – finding out where Pestilence will be soon."

"Help? From who?"

Sam and Dean exchanged looks "Crowley." Dean said under his breath. Bobby paused for a second before his face got dark red beneath his beard.

"Are you stupid?" He began, his gaze flicking back and forth between the two boys who both suddenly felt twelve again. "Have you both gone completely insane? Trusting a demon?!" Suddenly, there was a sharp knock on the door and all three men looked at the front door. Sam and Dean looked back at Bobby questioningly; when the old hunters' face hardened they both stood slowly and pulled the guns out of their belt. They walked up to the door cautiously, holding their pistols ready, aimed at the door as Bobby reached over with his left hand, placing his hand on the knob. He nodded at the boys and when they nodded back, signifying they were ready, he wrenched the door open. What they saw was enough to make them all gasp. Dean and Sam lowered their pistols slowly.

"… Cas?" Dean whispered, picking his jaw up off the floor. He gaped at the man standing in the doorway, seemingly unable to speak, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down futilely while the cogs spun in his head. He shook his head and mentally righted himself. "How the hell are you alive though?"

"I was told that I appeared, bloody and unconscious on a shrimping boat off Delacroix. I'm told it upset the sailors. After that, I woke up in a hospital." Dean sputtered for a moment before putting his pistol in his belt and frowning at the angel in the doorway.

"Okay, but how'd you get here?"

"I took a bus." Castiel stated matter-of-factly.

"But I-how…" Dean fumbled for a moment. "Why didn't you just zap here?" Castiel shifted uncomfortably.

"It would seem that my 'batteries' are drained." Cas answered providing air quotes.

"What do you mean, you're out of angel mojo?

"I'm saying that I am thirsty and my head aches. I have a bug bite that itches no matter how much I scratch it, and I'm saying that I'm just incredibly..."

"Human." Dean finished. "Wow." He took a step forward and clapped a hand on the former angel's shoulder and shook him a little, smiling sadly. "Sorry man." Cas's gaze flickered to the hand and back to Dean.

"Dean," He began. "I want to stay, but if you need more space, I will leave." Dean glared at Sam momentarily before looking back at Castiel. He cleared his throat, dropped his hand from Cas' shoulder and took a step back.

"No, we need all hands on deck for this one. We figured out how to pop Satan back in the box." Cas looked relieved as he stepped inside, Bobby backed up and rolled himself into the living room apparently bored with the conversation.

"How?" He shut the door behind himself and cocked his head at Dean who turned to follow Bobby into the living room.

"It's a long story, I'll fill you in." He beckoned to Cas who followed diligently into the living room. Sam hesitated and looked out the window at the setting sun before following the other three men and sitting down on the couch while Dean brought the now human Castiel up to speed on everything that had happened since he had gone.

* * *

It was shortly after midnight, the moon was high in the night sky and shining a ghostly glow over the three men in the black 1967 Impala speeding down the highway. Dean Winchester sat in the driver's seat, Castiel next to him in the passengers, and Sam Winchester lying down and softly snoring in the back. _Team Free Will_ Dean mused to himself. He had felt an enormous weight taken off of his shoulders at the sight of the angel in the doorway, but after putting so much effort into infuriating himself, and Cas, he couldn't quite think of how things were going to go back to normal. _Which_ , he supposed, _wasn't quite normal to begin with considering that he was just screwing around with someone. A man, no less._ His thoughts drifted off as he stared out over the open expanse of black pavement. _If life were like a movie I would have pulled him into a big hug and kissed him right there for the whole world to see. Friggin' chick flick moments like that make me sick. And he's a guy, I'm Dean freakin' Winchester, ladies man. I've had sex with more women than I can count, and I can count pretty high._ He chuckled softly to himself, just barely audible over the radio. _But it's Cas, he's my best friend. That's the issue! He's a HE! I'm not gay! I thought things may have been getting back to normal when I find out my own brother drove him away_. He glanced in the rearview mirror and could see the scab on his brothers lip where he had bloodied it, he quickly looked back at the road _. And then he shows up at my door expecting things to be just the way we left them. How did we leave them? I just wanted him to be out of my life, then he left and I wanted him back, now he's back and I just don't know_. He sighed to himself. _All I know is I'm not gay, and he's a man. And everyone I've ever cared about has died. He's my best friend._

"Dean?" Cas spoke over the radio, shaking Dean out of his inner turmoil.

"Yeah?"

"I have read up on the subject of love and sex and therefore know a lot about it. Although I haven't known human emotions for very long, I still feel that I know my emotions well enough to analyze them rationally. We have engaged in intercourse and, as an angel of the lord, I would not have been able to engage in it with you had I not felt a certain level of affection for you." He paused. "What I'm trying to ask is if you have come to terms with your homosexuality? Do you love me Dean?"

_I'm not gay._

"I-" Dean broke off, feeling an icy cold pit settling itself in his stomach. He groped around in his mind trying to figure out what best to say. _No, because you'll die. No, because I can't recall a single moment in time when I have told someone that. No, because you're a man. No, because it's just going to cause something horrendous to happen that I won't be able to forgive myself for_. Noes and reasons clanged and clashed around in his head, but none of them were any good and he knew that. He heard a small yes in the back of his mind and squashed it down quickly, in this business there was no room for that. "I can't." He said finally, gripping the steering wheel a little harder. "I just can't."

"Of course Dean." Castiel replied stonily, the glint of hope in his eye masked over by his usual stoic manner. Metallica floated over their heads and Sam shifted in the back seat, but neither of them spoke. After about a mile it was Cas who broke the thick silence between them. "I just want you to know that, according to all definitions of the phrase, I love you Dean." At this declaration Dean felt his heart sink. He felt Cas' gaze on the side of his face and forced himself to show no emotion. That was exactly the last thing he had wanted to hear tonight, and yet a portion of him was elated. A portion of him felt fuzzy and hot in his cheeks, but that portion of him wasn't rational, and he was in the wrong business for that portion of him to ever surface.

"I know, Cas." Dean said softly. _He's my best friend._ "I know." _Everyone I care about dies._


	15. Human

The sun was low in the sky when they stopped to grab a bite to eat, Dean had been driving all night (save for four hours when he had Sam drive due to the fact that he was beginning to fall asleep at the wheel) and they were going over the plan one last time.

"Okay," Sam began around a mouthful of salad. "So, you and I will go around back," he gestured at his brother from across the table with his fork "kill whatever's guarding the door back there, since there's always something. Go in, find Pestilence and slice the ring off his finger?"

"Yep." Dean responded around his mouthful of burger.

"And what will I do?" Cas chimed in from his place beside Sam, he popped his ketchup smothered fry into his mouth and began chewing slowly, staring expectantly at Dean.

"You stay in the car." Dean replied without missing a beat.

"Dean-"

"Cas," Dean put down his burger and leaned his elbows onto the table, looking seriously back at Cas, Sam shifted uncomfortably. "You're human and vulnerable. Without your powers, you're practically a baby in a trenchcoat. You _stay_ in the car." Castiel looked indignant, he opened his mouth to retort but shut it with a snap. He huffed and turned to face the window, completely ignoring the meal in front of him. Dean shook his head and Sam turned from one to the other, biting back a sarcastic comment.

Sam had fallen asleep shortly after departing Bobby's house, he supposed he must have been worn out after the beating he took. What the other men at the table didn't know, however, was that he had woken up. And, with the best timing in the world, he had just heard the former angel confess his love for his brother. _I know_ , was what Dean had replied. From the back seat Sam scoffed and adjusted so he could hear better. Neither of them said a word after that, and after a while of craning his neck, he finally laid his head back down and let his thoughts wander. It was just then that he realized that he had never actually heard Dean say those words, _I love you_. Not for lack of anyone else trying, plenty of his bed mates had told him those words, but he only ever replied with a chuckle and a change of subject. He hadn't said it about Lisa or Cassie either, and Sam knew he had felt it. Even Sam himself had tried to get his brother to say those three little words that meant so much. He remembered when he was little, one night when their father was out on a hunt Dean had read him "I Love You Forever" as a bed time story, and right as he was nodding off at the end of the story Sam whispered "I love you forever Dean" and he had gotten the same reply Cas had gotten, _I know Sammy_. Dean had said _I know_ to him, his own brother, and of course Dean loved him. Now Dean had said it to his angel, because he thought just those two words were enough, but Sam knew that this went deeper than his brother would ever admit.

"So, we gank the guy at the back door and snatch the ring, all while Cas stays in the car." Dean recapped as he stuffed the last bit of burger in his mouth and smiled at Sam, who nodded.

"Then we can all go out for ice cream and strippers, right Dean?" Sam responded with an easy smile. He scooted out of the booth and stood, waiting for the other two men.

"You know it Sammy." Dean smiled and winked as he followed Sam into a standing position, plopped some bills on the table, and walked out the door with Sam and Cas in tow.

* * *

They pulled up at Serenity Valley Convalescent Home shortly after darkness had fallen.

In the driver's seat Dean was feeling good, this was the second to last horsemen ring they had to get. He supposed he had even forgiven his little brother. No, forgiven was too strong a word, he had begun to understand Sam's reasons, even if he didn't agree with them.

In the passenger's seat Sam was feeling a little easier around Dean; before he had felt as though he was walking on eggshells, but Dean never called him "Sammy" when he was angry, so he must be getting over it. As far as Pestilence went, he supposed that it would be pretty easy, Dean and Sam had both gone on a hunt while sick before, and sure it was a little more difficult, but it wasn't that hard, so how hard could this be?

In the backseat Castiel was sulking about his inability to convince Dean to let him go with them, and he was frustrated by his unreciprocated feelings toward Dean. He didn't understand, after all those books that he had poured over in his studies, how did Dean not love him back? It didn't make any sense to him. The more he thought about it, the angrier he got, so he pushed it to the back of his brain, brooding would do him no good.

Both Winchester boys stepped out of the Impala and began walking up to the back door of the white building, ignoring the dark glares Castiel sent them. There was a guard standing there, and he seemed to be human. They sensed nothing supernatural about him.

"Hey. Hi. Uh, I'm looking for my Nana. Uh, her name is Eunice Kennedy."

"Go around front and see the nurse." The security guard responded lazily.

"You mind just helping me out sir?" Dean replied, balling his fist and swinging hard at the man's face, knocking him unconscious.

"Eunice Kennedy?" Sam said, walking around from his spot beside the building.

Dean smiled at Sam who had come to stand beside him. "That's the beauty of improv Sammy, you never know what's going to come out of your mouth." He reached out and opened the back door and stepped inside, pulling out the pistol in his waistband with his free hand.

"What're we looking for exactly?"

"Well, he's Pestilence, so he probably looks sick."

"Everyone looks sick." Sam looked up just in time to see a distortion on the monitor on the wall, right over a man's face. He nudged Dean and pointed with Ruby's knife. Dean looked up and nodded, walking down the white hall straight in front of them. After about five minutes they rounded a corner and found the bodies of a nurse and doctor on the floor. Sam had a violent coughing jag, he removed his hand from his mouth when he could breathe again and glanced to see that it was speckled with blood. He wiped it on his jacket, a disgusted look on his face. "Ugh.. Must be getting close." But Dean could barely hear him over his own coughing, his mouth lined with blood. Sam looked over at his brother just in time to see him fall against the wall. He stumbled over, vision blurring, and grabbed his jacket. "Come on Dean. Get up." He hauled him a couple steps, coughing raggedly, when Dean went limp beneath him. He let go of the fabric and stood up, he felt his lungs tighten as he took another step. Felt blood trickling from his mouth, another step. Felt his head get fuzzy and slip into blackness, another step. He reached a door and a nurse opened it.

"The doctor will see you now." She said, eyes flashing black. He looked beyond her to the old man sitting on the bed, he said something, maybe his name, Sam didn't know. He lifted up Ruby's knife when the worst sickness he'd ever felt fell over him, he blacked out and fell forward.

* * *

When Dean awoke he was in a room on the floor. He groaned at the white floor and looked up to see the blurred figures of a man and a woman, trying to ignore the horrible wrenching in his gut, as well as the pain in his limbs. It felt like every inch of his body, inside and out, was on fire. He felt weak, he couldn't breathe, he couldn't move. The taller blurred figure, who he'd assumed was Pestilence, bent down began speaking. "Hmm. You boys don't look well. It might be the, uh, Scarlet fever. Or, uh, the meningitis. Oh! Or the syphilis." He paused and clicked his tongue, shaking his head before he continued. "That's no fun. However you feel right now? It's gonna get so very, very much worse." He grabbed Sam's hair, pulling his head up to look at him. "Questions?" He let go and stood. Dean looked around hazily at his surroundings, maybe he could grab the table and… And do what? That wouldn't work. "… just describes… get sick." Pestilence was speaking, the words ebbing and flowing in Dean's brain as he swept the room with his eyes. Suddenly, he could make out the shape of Ruby's knife, he reached for it slowly. "… divide and conquer." Pestilence stepped on Dean's hand which gave out a nasty cracked, Dean hissed in pain as he watched the knife get kicked away by the other boot. "… in the end…. So weak…." Dean pulled his hand back to his body as soon as it was free and rested his head down on the floor, thankful for the coolness of the linoleum on his hot face. He closed his eyes, trying to stop the shuddering, trying to ignore the pain. "… one epidemic at a time…." Pulling breath into his body was getting more laborious, and he wasn't sure how much longer he could hold on. He opened his eyes finally, squinting at Sam's pale, still body. "Now… On a scale of one to ten, how's your pain right now?" He finished silkily. Just then the door flew open and Dean looked toward the figure draped in tan.

"Cas?" Dean croaked. "I told you to-" but that was all he could muster as he started coughing again, his eyes welled up and soft tears flowed down his face. Castiel advanced toward Pestilence and was halfway through the room when he doubled over, coughing up blood. Dean watched the red drops fall on the white floor and felt a surge of protectiveness flow through him. Pestilence bent down and looked the newcomer in the face.

"Well, look at that. An occupied vessel, but powerless. Oh, that's fascinating. There's not a speck of angel in you, is there?" In a flash Castiel grabbed the knife to his left and stood, forcing the other man's hand onto the table and slicing off his fingers.

"Maybe just a speck." He forced through gritted teeth, the horseman's ring finger clattered onto the table in a pool of blood. The nurse let out an unearthly scream and tackled Castiel to the ground, fortunately she landed right on the knife still in his hand and died with a crackle of electricity.

Dean suddenly felt fine, save for the taste of blood in his mouth. He stood quickly, glad to be off the floor. They looked to where Pestilence stood hunched against the wall. "It's too late." He said and disappeared. Dean whirled around on Cas, now standing, all but ignoring Pestilence's ominous words entirely.

"I told you to wait in the car!" He bellowed, stepping over Sam and pulling Cas up by his lapels.

"Dean-" Sam began, standing up slowly.

Dean turned back to Sam momentarily, not letting go of the murderous-looking Castiel. "Shut up Sam!" He turned back to Cas. "You could have gotten yourself killed!"

"Dean, I did what I thought was best." Castiel said forcefully. They were inches apart, and Dean could feel the former angel's heat seeping into him.

"You're human now Cas! Don't you get that?!"

"So are you Dean."

"I can handle myself. You could've died!" He let go and Castiel stumbled a moment before righting himself. Dean spun to storm out of the room when he felt a hand grab his shoulder with surprising strength and wheel him around, and once again he felt powerless as Castiel gripped his jacket and pulled him around until he was flat against the wall. Cas pushed forward until they were chest to chest and their faces were a mere inch apart. He felt Cas's hot breath on his lips as those blue eyes bored into his.

"You _would_ be dead had I not shown up Dean. Do not forget who I used to be." Castiel sneered. He released the elder Winchester and turned around, coat billowing dramatically. He pushed past Sam and out the door. Sam paused, eyes wide, before he turned on his heel and followed. Dean waited a few moments before following both men; he grabbed the Horseman's finger and willed his arousal to go away before he finally set off behind his brother.


	16. Heartbreak

Castiel and Sam were already outside and in the Impala when Dean made it out there. He got in and slammed the door with enough force to rattle the open windows. Sam stared at his brother, wide-eyed, while Dean started the car and took off without saying a word. When he had come out Castiel saw the prominent bulge in his trousers and smirked. Of course he realized what he said the night before was upsetting Dean. He hadn't meant to, and he sure didn't want to stop what they were doing. He thought that maybe, if he told Dean, it would stir something inside the hunter and maybe help him realize that he had other feelings besides arousal and anger. He had hoped that maybe the hunter would reciprocate his feelings, but he should have realized that that wouldn't happen. Castiel stared out the window and watched the scenery fly past, letting his thoughts wander. If he was to be honest with himself, he was angry. He was angry at the hunter because Dean knew emotions, he knew feelings, he just chose not to show them. Castiel had only known these foreign emotions for a short while now, and the fact that he had come to realize something as immense as love made it all the worse when he was shot down. He had seen love, couples at a coffee shop, men and women walking down the street holding hands. He had seen the look in their eyes, like there was no one else in the world besides the person they were looking at.

He had seen that same look in Dean's eyes on occasion, when the hunter didn't think he was looking. It was short and quickly masked over by indifference, but it was there. He knew there was more than Dean would admit, he could see it in those beautiful, sad green eyes. He had caught himself staring at Dean quite a few times and, not knowing the social implications of such actions, he never thought anything of it. Then he grew emotions and suddenly he had realized that Dean would stare too. They would stare into one another's eyes in a tense silence. There had to be more that the hunter was feeling. _Had_ to be. But when he had voiced his own thoughts, what did he get? _I know._ Cas scoffed in the backseat, earning a confused glance from Sam. He shook his head and the younger Winchester turned back around in the front seat. Castiel looked over at Dean, and watched his jaw tick, clenching and unclenching in a rhythmic motion. His eyes roamed over the man's face, landing on his lips. He sighed, feeling disheartened. Why did God make the most pleasurable emotions so torturous?

* * *

Before he knew it the sun had risen over the trees. He blinked into the light, unaware that he had been lost in his thoughts for so long. They pulled up to Bobby's, dust pluming behind them and pulled in between two long lines of cars, Cas vaguely wondered why Dean had parked so far away from the house.

Dean broke the silence, his voice steely. "Out."

"Dean, I-" Sam started, but was cut short by the look in the elder hunters' eyes.

"I said _out_." Dean opened his door and stepped out, followed by Sam and Castiel.

"Okay, now what?"

"I need to talk to Cas," his eyes flickered to the angel momentarily. " ** _Alone._** " Sam put his hands up in surrender and began walking back up to the house. As soon as he was out of sight, Dean stomped over to the passengers' side of the car where Cas was standing. He stared down the angel. "Were you trying to get yourself killed?!" He yelled, voice ringing out among the cars in the dirt lot.

"No, I was making sure you were not."

Dean frowned and furrowed his brow in an expression Castiel had long come to recognize as anger. "Not what Cas?!"

"Killed." Castiel answered levelly. He stared right back into those green eyes that he had stared into so many times. The green eyes that reminded him so much of the grass in his favorite place, the eternal Tuesday afternoon of the autistic man up in heaven.

"I can take care of myself Cas, I don't need you to protect me!"

"I wasn't-" He faltered, finally glancing away from Dean's stare, and stumbling along for the words. "I wasn't protecting you." He lifted his gaze back to Dean's just as he rolled his eyes and turned his back. He began to pace, kicking up dust under his boots.

"Weren't protecting me?! Enough with the holier than thou bullcrap! I-"

"Dean-"

"-just don't get you man, first you-"

" _Dean_ -"

"-go and tell me that crap you told me the other night then you-"

" ** _Dean!-_** "

"-charge into that room like hell is on your heels, and you weren't _protecting_ me?! That doesn't make any-"

" ** _DEAN!"_**

 ** _"_** ** _WHAT?!"_** He spun to face Castiel, arms open wide by his sides.

Castiel took a deep breath, clenching his teeth. "I was protecting myself." He finally ground out.

Dean took a step back, incredulity and confusion winning over anger for just a moment. He regained his voice and dropped his hands by his sides. "What?"

"By protecting you, I was protecting myself. If you were hurt, or worse…" he stopped, allowing the sentence to finish itself. He looked into Dean's eyes and watched them soften, if only minutely.

"Cas," he pinched the bridge of his nose and breathed in deeply. "Why did you have to tell me that the other night?"

"If I didn't say it, Dean, I'd still have felt it. Where's the sense in that?"

"Sense? Damn it Cas, we're on the edge of stopping the apocalypse! Does that mean nothing to you?!"

By this point Cas could feel the rage welling up inside him, hot anger slowly burning up his insides. He stepped closer to Dean. "Don't question my want to stop this Dean."

"Well, it seems pretty obvious to me that you don't care!"

Cas tipped over the edge, getting swept up in his own fury. "I gave up everything! And I did it, all of it, for _you_! And why? Because for the first time in my _millennia_ of existence, I have had thoughts and feelings that I know are my own! Don't you _dare_ tell me I don't care Dean, simply because you cannot handle your own emotions of 30 years!" He gasped in surprise as Dean pinned him against the black Impala, holding him by the lapels of his trenchcoat. Dean pressed his body in closer until they were touching. Dean stared deep into his eyes, pupils dilating marginally, they flickered to his lips and back up again. His grip tightened on the jacket, he leaned down, and mashed their lips together. When he opened his mouth, Cas took the hint and did the same. He felt the other man's tongue in his mouth, wet and hot, and tasting mildly of blood. They battled for dominance for a moment before Castiel let him win. He reached up to grab the soft short hair at the back of Dean's head, placing his other arm around his middle and pulled him close until there was literally no space left between them. Dean groaned into his mouth as he pulled his hands off the coat and placed them on the car behind him. Cas bit down on the lower lip softly and Dean responded by grinding against him. They pulled apart and Dean bit down on the soft skin by his collarbone, earning him a quiet moan. Cas pushed the hunter away until they were at arms' length, suddenly missing the body heat. "Dean, I can't."

"Why not?" Dean closed the space between them only to be pushed away again.

"Dean." Cas said seriously. "I just can't." He pushed past the hunter toward the house suddenly feeling cold and alone and _sad_. Humanity was shaping up to be exhausting.

Dean stared after the tan trench coat, only looking away when it slipped behind a row of cars. He swiped a hand through his hair and kicked the dirt, sending a fresh plume skyward. "Son of a bitch!" He shouted at the Earth. It felt like his skin was tightening around him, squeezing his life out. Without thinking, he punched the hard exterior of his baby, cursing when pain shot up his arm. He looked down at his left hand, now broken in two places, and finally allowed a frustrated tear to roll down his cheek. He wiped it off and forced himself to relax. He shook himself off, cleared his throat, and headed toward the house to bandage up his hand.


	17. Anger and Sales

Sam stood from where he was crouched behind a rusted-out tan LeSabre. His legs were tingling from having been sat still for so long, and he supposed that he should have gone inside like Dean thought he did, but his insatiable curiosity would not let him leave. It was that that drove him to sit behind the old car and watch the two men by the Impala. He heard every word between the two of them, and he watched every movement they made (except, of course, when he turned his eyes away due to the way things had heated up). He had watched as Castiel had walked past him and into the house, then he had watched his brother kick the dirt in the yard and punch the car until he had worn himself out enough to follow the shorter man into the house. Only after the two had been gone for ten minutes did Sam allow himself to stand on shaky legs.

He wanted to help.

He shook his head, realizing how stupid that was after it was his "help" that had started all of this anyway. He pondered that situation for a moment, why had he told Cas to give Dean space? He supposed it was because he knew that Dean wouldn't be able to handle any level of commitment or affection, he had never been able to. He had just wanted things to go back to normal, and now things were so far from normal it wasn't even funny. He shook his head, thinking maybe he should just leave things to unfold naturally. He scoffed to himself as he walked up to the house and up onto the porch _. Right, like that was going to happen._

He reached down to open the back door that used to be white, but was now a solid red-rust color, when he stopped in his tracks, realization ripping through him. What had Bobby said? _Would it be best for Dean or best for you?_ That was only a few days before, but it felt like a lifetime ago. Bobby had been right, granted Bobby was almost always right, but Sam had to come to the realization himself. He had wanted so badly for things to go back to the way they had been before his brother had tried to give himself to Michael that he had told his – Sam shuddered at the word – lover to essentially go away and never come back. He thought he had the best of intentions when, he realized now that, deep down he was only thinking about himself and his relationship with his brother. When had he gotten so selfish? He removed his hand from the door, he needed a plan. He needed a plan to get his brother back together with his angel, but what would he do? He had turned around on the porch, about to take a walk to be alone with his thoughts, when he heard Dean shout through the door.

"Well then give it back!"

Sam ripped the door open and rushed inside to find Dean sitting in a chair across from Bobby, Cas standing a few feet behind him, leaning up against a bookshelf, and…

"Crowley?"

"Sam, glad you could join us. We've just discovered that Bobby here has pawned his soul to me to find the location of Death. I fully intend to give it back eventually."

"Now!" Dean yelled, he had turned around in his chair to face the demon in the doorway. Sam's head was reeling as he made his way to sit down in the chair next to his brother, but there was one thought that made him stop in his tracks and look at his makeshift father.

"Did you kiss him?" And in that moment he felt all eyes in the room swivel to look at the old hunter as he stared at Bobby, who was getting noticeably red under his beard. He looked from Sam to Dean and replied after hesitating.

"No!" He shook his head and Sam was almost convinced until he heard Crowley clear his throat from behind him. Four heads swiveled around to look at the demon who was holding up a phone with a picture on it. A very clear picture of a distressed looking Bobby kissing, well, Crowley.

Bobby frowned and growled. "Why did you take a picture?"

"Why'd you have to use tongue?" Crowley smiled easily at the old hunter in his chair behind the desk and leaned against the doorjamb. Bobby, still very red, sputtered and looked around the room, and Dean shifted uncomfortably. Sam noticed that his hand was bandaged, and he remembered for a moment when Dean's hand had been crushed by Pestilence, then he'd been smart enough to punch a car with it. He scoffed under his breath and looked over at Castiel who was standing just a few feet behind Dean. He looked like he was very pointedly not looking at Dean – and failing. Sam watched as every few moments his eyes would flick to the hunter. His face was stony, but behind the former angels gaze he could see the most the most heart-wrenching display of grief and love that Sam had ever seen. In that moment Sam could see everything that his brother meant to the angel, and everything that the man in the trench coat would do for the man in the flannel, including giving up his entire life, ideas, and sense of purpose to follow the righteous man toward his certain death. In that brief moment Sam regretted everything he had said to Cas, and how he had felt disgusted at his brother. Cas looked up for a moment and locked eyes with Sam, indifference glazing over his features, and it was gone. All those raw feelings were gone and Sam almost couldn't remember what it looked like at all, but he was pulled back to the present when Dean's chair scraped against the worn wooden floor. He stood and began walking toward Crowley.

"Alright, you know what, I'm sick of this. Give him his soul back _now._ "

"I'm sorry, I can't."

"Can't or won't?!"

"Won't all right?" Crowley held his hands up. "It's insurance. You kill demons, gigantor over there –" He nodded his head toward Sam who was chuckling to himself. "he - What're you laughing at?"

"Nothing, nothing." Sam held up a hand and tried to calm down, but he couldn't contain himself, when Crowley went to draw a breath in to speak again, Sam burst out in raucous laughter echoing around the room. He was doubled over, holding his sides. When he had finally calmed down enough to look up, the look of dumbfounded shock on his brothers' face made him start up all over again.

"What's so funny?" Crowley yelled in agitation over the loud laughter that Sam couldn't hold back.

"It's – It's just – It's just…" He took deep breaths to calm down, wiping away an errant tear. Finally he straightened, able to speak, "I just find it funny that all of you got in a huff over Ruby and now Bobby's selling his soul and making out with demons, and Dean's screwing an angel!" He sighed as he looked from person to person. Bobby looked constipated, Castiel looked hurt, Crowley looked mildly amused, and Dean – well, if looks could kill.

"Yes, I can see how that would be funny. Hmph." Crowley took a swig from the cup he had, made a disgusted face at the amber liquid inside and set it down again.

Sam watched Dean's face work up in anger, turning bright red, and he actually felt kind of scared. "You son of a bitch!" Dean screamed, ungluing his feet and taking a step toward his much taller brother who suddenly felt the size of an ant.

"Dean, I didn't mean anything by it."

"Sure you didn't, just like how you didn't mean anything by telling him to leave? Or by butting your head in where it doesn't belong?! What's _wrong_ with you Sam! What the hell?!" With each word Dean's voice was getting louder until it was resonating throughout the tiny living room. Sam put his hands up in surrender wondering how much he'd just undone between the two of them.

Dean took a few steps closer to Sam and balled his fists up, Sam winced despite himself. "Don't you **dare** compare him to Ruby! He is nothing like that manipulative _bitch_ and I'm nothing like you! At least he friggin' cares about me!" He gestured toward Cas who was standing stock still and wide eyed against the bookshelf. "And I'm not just using him to get laid!" Dean's voice dropped down to an angry whisper as he stood almost chest to chest with Sam. His voice was dangerously low, his brows furrowed and his eyes pointed. Sam glanced over Dean's head just for a moment and noticed that everyone else in the room had leaned forward to hear better. "Don't compare us to you and Ruby because he's way more important to me than some demon chick, and I swear Sam I'm not afraid to knock you on your ass if you say anything even _similar_ to that again!" Sam was about to say something, anything, to diffuse the triggered bomb that was Dean Winchester, but Dean picked that moment to face the room, throwing his arms wide and screaming. "Anybody else wanna share with the class?!" He looked around, and when no one said anything he turned back around and pushed passed Sam so hard he stumbled. When Sam regained his footing he looked at the dumbfounded group in front of him, the only sound was Dean's retreating footsteps. Finally, it was Crowley who broke the silence.

"Never a dull moment with you hunters, is there?" He looked around the room and vanished. Bobby breathed out and looked from Sam to Castiel shaking his head. He never said anything, he just wheeled himself out of the room, leaving Sam alone with the former angel, neither of them knowing what to do with themselves, or Dean.


	18. Forgotten

Dean was not dumb. He realized that downing an entire bottle of bourbon on a nearly empty stomach was not a smart thing to do. Especially not with everything on his plate, but he just couldn't help himself; his world was going to hell in a handbasket and he couldn't do a damn thing about it. He eyed the nearly empty bottle dangling from his hand and sighed to himself. Bobby had taken Sam somewhere, on some kind of hunt or something, but that was hours ago, back when Dean had locked himself in the guest room. He looked around the tilted, dark room that was Bobby's living room; there was a broken lamp on the floor and a sizeable dent in the wall, next to it was a dark red smear. He brought his hand up to his head, noticing the fresh blood caking his knuckles on his broken hand, his bandages were MIA. He thought hard for a moment, trying to remember what exactly had happened the last few hours and, unsurprisingly, he had no idea. He dropped the mostly empty bottle with a dull thump and stood, leaning against the wall for support. "Cas?" He called out to the empty room. He waited, nothing. Not even the sound of a damn mouse in the walls. He ventured a step forward, but immediately lost his footing and fell two steps back into Bobby's couch. "Castiel?" He called again. After a few more moments with no response he sighed to himself and lay down on the couch. He just needed some sleep. Maybe he'd wake up and everyone would have a good laugh over how drunk he had gotten. As he swept his eyes across the room again at the shards of glass and metal littering the floor, he realized that it wasn't likely that anyone would be laughing. He closed his eyes and tried to ignore the spinning under his lids and the pounding in his head. _What the hell happened?_

* * *

"C'mon Sam," Bobby called wheeling himself into the hallway. Sam and Castiel were currently trying to coerce Dean into opening the guest room and coming out, but it wasn't happening. Sam looked over at the old hunter and was met with stern, weathered eyes. "I found us a job to do."

Sam looked back exasperatedly. "Bobby, I-"

Bobby cut him off firmly. "Don't make me tell you again boy." He threatened and Sam hesitated before turning fully to Bobby, as he walked away he cast a hopeful look over his shoulder toward Cas, who nodded. Soon enough Castiel heard the front door open and shut, and a car started up and drove off. He sighed to himself and raised his hand to knock again.

"Dean, I have been standing here for twenty minutes." Silence. He knocked again, more forcefully this time. "I am not above trying to break the door down." More silence. The angel stepped back against the wall and readied himself to run at the door when he heard a click of a lock, and the door opened a sliver, revealing Dean's red face.

"What?"

"I think we need to talk, Dean." Dean snorted and moved back to shut the door again, shaking his head. Castiel used the opening and pushed the door open, sending Dean stumbling back into the bed. "It was not a request." He stepped over the threshold and Dean grabbed the bottle by the bed, drinking deeply. He pulled the bottle from his lips and sucked in a breath before looking at Cas again.

"I don't think so."

Cas sighed again and shook his head. "Dean," He began as the aforementioned hunter pushed past him, bottle in hand and reeking of liquor.

"I said no, man." Cas stared after Dean's retreating back for a moment before leaving the room. Instead of following Dean directly into the living room though, he detoured to the kitchen and stood at the lip of the sink. He stared through the dirty window over the dusty lot littered with dead cars; everything was tinted in the soft blue of early evening. He watched a leaf skitter over the ground until it finally came to rest at the tire of a car. He shook his head and stepped back before rifling through the cabinets for a glass, which he found and filled with water. If Dean had been drinking, he would need water to fend off the hangover Castiel knew was coming. He turned around, fresh water in hand and walked to the doorway to the living room.

"Cas…" Dean said wearily. He was a shadow against the corner of the living room. His head rested against the wall, his arm draped over his propped up knee, between two of his fingers dangled the square bottle filled with amber liquid. He looked up through his lashes at the figure in the doorway and Cas felt his heart skip a beat. He strode forward to where Dean sat on the floor and offered him the glass.

"Dean, I know-" But that was all he was able to say before he was slammed against the wall knocking the wind out of him, and the glass out of his hand, he heard a dim shatter and felt something splatter against his leg. He tried to move, but he was pinned by Dean, they were so close he could taste the bourbon on Dean's breath when it brushed his lips. Before he could react, Dean's mouth was on his, hot and urgent as he stepped infinitesimally closer, pressing them flush together. Cas felt as though all the oxygen had been sucked out of the room as Dean slipped his hand under his many layers of clothing, running calloused hands over Cas' firm skin. When Cas finally regained some control of his body he pushed Dean back to arms' length, which Dean allowed, but he didn't let go of his loose grip on the lapel of the tan trench coat. "Dean," Cas began breathily, looking into the hunter's half-lidded eyes. "You don't want to do this."

Dean laughed then, a bitter, humorless laugh. "That's the thing though," He slurred, wobbling slightly on his feet. "I do, I really do." He closed the distance between their mouths again; Cas could taste the whiskey so strongly it felt like he was actually drinking it. He pushed the hunter away again, and shaking his head sadly.

"No, you don't Dean. You're inebriated."

"I do Cas, okay?! I do!" Dean shouted and punched the wall directly next to Cas' right ear. He pulled his hand back and ripped the bandages covering his hand off as though they burnt him. He glared down at his broken hand and punched the wall again, leaving behind a small blood smear. The former angel stared back at the righteous man, unflinching. "I've got a big _gay_ crush on you, okay? Is that what you want to friggin hear?!" When Castiel only shook his head sadly Dean gave an exasperated sigh and leaned forward until his forehead was in the crook of Cas' neck. "Please let me do this." His voice dropped to a whisper and Cas felt wetness on his neck. "Please Cas." He was going to, just then, he was about to give Dean everything he ever wanted and more, but he just couldn't allow himself to live through that kind of pain.

"I can't Dean." He said softly, placing his hands on Dean's upper arms and pushing him away gently. "You are intoxicated, and you will forget this conversation, whereas I will remember everything." He smiled sadly at the hunter. "It would be a torturous experience for us both." He stepped to the side, effectively putting space between the two of them. Dean's shoulder slumped and he gave another bitter laugh, looking sideways at Cas. He may have been smiling, but Cas could see the frustration, resentment, and grief just beneath the surface.

"I just don't get you man." He straightened and turned to Cas. "You've been cut off from heaven for what, a month Cas? A _month_ , and you've already fallen in love? Can't you see what's wrong with that?" His voice was steadily rising, nearing hysterics. "How do you just fall in love with someone like that? I mean, you barely know me man! But you decided I was good enough to _deserve_ your attentions and what? I reciprocate and you're suddenly not interested?! What kind of screwed up logic is that?!"

"You're drunk."

" ** _I KNOW I'M DRUNK!_** " Dean grabbed the lamp on the table and threw it on the ground where it crashed into a million tiny pieces. He stood over the light, huffing. He breathed in deeply and looked at Cas levelly. "It's not real okay?" He carded a hand through his hair, "It's not real. I don't know what it is, but you don't love me. You can't. I mean, don't tell me you do then- then do that." He gestured at the wall, noticing for the first time the Cas-shaped dent it sported.

Cas looked over at the wall and back to Dean, unsure what to do. "You're not making sense Dean." He said lamely. He couldn't give Dean what he wanted, and he couldn't calm him down. He looked around helplessly before sighing. "I _do_ love you."

"You don't." Dean slumped to the floor, his voice cracking over the last word. "I'm messed up man, and the whole world's going to hell if we can't stop this thing; which we won't. So what's the point?" He looked up momentarily, but just long enough for Cas to see the wetness shining on his face. "What's the point of loving someone if they can't love you back?" Castiel stepped back, feeling as though he had felt a physical blow. His eyes stung and burned at the same time, his heart was squeezing painfully, and his stomach felt like it had been filled with lead. He reached up to feel a wetness on his cheeks, he was crying. He nodded curtly at the man on the floor, then turned and left, ignoring the soft calls of the hunter behind him.

* * *

"Crowley!" Dean called out to the still living room, he had woken up a few hours after he had fallen on the bed in Bobby's living room. He looked around at the still empty room, cursing under his breath. In the blink of an eye Dean wasn't alone in the living room anymore.

"You called?"

"Yeah," He rubbed his neck awkwardly. "I need your help."

Crowley looked shocked. " _You_ need help from _me_? Oh, I'll have to write home about this."

"Enough." Dean glared at the demon and put his head in his hands. "I need you to tell me what happened last night."

"And how would I know _anything_ about that?" Crowley responded, voice dripping with sarcasm. Dean looked up and glared. After a moment Crowley's smile faded and he sighed. "Right, the coin." He shoved his hands in his pockets and looked at the hunter with an almost sad expression. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah." Dean grunted, unmoving.

"Well, let's start from the beginning then, shall we?"


	19. Death and Promises

Dean finally looked up from where he was seated on the bed and groaned. "Damn it." Crowley had shifted to lean against the doorjamb while he told the hunter everything that he had heard the night before. "Where did he go?"

Crowley thought about it for a moment. "I haven't the foggiest." He shrugged and Dean rolled his eyes. "What I do know though," Crowley said silkily, standing up straight. "Is I've still got Death's location, and Sam and Bobby are off dealing with that pesky virus at the pharmaceutical company. What was it called? Niveus I think?"

Dean jumped to his feet. "What?!"

"They're fine, but we're about two minutes to midnight here. Now, if you're done brooding over the angel, we have a horseman to find and an apocalypse to stop." Dean nodded his head slowly, pushing Castiel out of his thoughts. He had to stop the apocalypse; that was it. Maybe after the apocalypse he could figure out this - _whatever_ \- it was. For now though, he couldn't exactly deal with anything if there was no world to deal with it on.

"Alright," He nodded resolutely and cast a final look around at the trashed room, feeling an involuntary pang of regret. "Alright, let's go." Crowley nodded and suddenly they weren't in Sioux Falls anymore.

* * *

"Hey, let's stop for pizza."

"Are you kidding?" Dean did a double take at the demon. They were standing on a busy street in Chicago, its citizens running this way and that to avoid the horrible storm that was nearing quickly.

"Heard it was good. Also, he's in there. Ground zero, horseman's stable if you will."

"How do you know?"

"Have you met me? 'Cause I know."

"Alright." Dean turned toward the pizzeria, feeling determined. "Are you coming or…" He turned back to face Crowley, only to look out over an empty street. "..Not." He shook his head and pushed the door open, stepping in and closing it as quietly as possible. There were dead bodies strewn everywhere, lying on the floor, sitting at their tables, businessmen and women with their faces in their plates. Dean treaded lightly, toward the only man sitting upright in the restaurant, the only thing he had was stealth, and he did not want to lose that particular upper hand.

"Join me Dean, the pizza's delicious." _Shit_. Dean felt extremely nervous as he moved slowly around to the opposite end of the table from the gaunt man he could only assume was Death himself. He glanced up at the window to see the storm outside had worsened; the people in the street were running now. "Sit down." Death ordered, not looking up from his pizza, Dean complied. "Took you long enough to find me. I've been wanting to talk to you."

"I got to say, I have mixed feelings about that." Dean chuckled nervously. "S-so is this the part where," He paused and cleared his throat, trying to reduce the feeling of constriction he felt. ".. where you kill me?" He smiled.

Death looked up then, setting his fork and knife down. "You have an inflated sense of your importance. To a thing like me, a thing like you, well," Death paused and took a sip of his drink. "Think how you'd feel if a bacterium sat at your table and started to get snarky." He set his drink down slowly and locked eyes with Dean who squirmed under the intense gaze. "This is one little planet in one tiny solar system in a galaxy that's barely out of its diapers. I'm old, Dean. Very old. So I invite you to contemplate how insignificant I find you." Dean subconsciously leaned back in his seat, suddenly feeling very insignificant indeed. Death reached forward and grabbed the pizza, placing a slice on the plate in front of Dean. "Eat." He ordered. Dean looked at the pizza and up at Death. Was this it? Was he going to choke to death on a piece of pizza because he thought he had the balls enough to take on _Death himself._ He looked around again at the businessmen and women in their suits with their fancy jewelry, all suddenly undignified and slumped over with food on their faces. _Crap._ Death was looking at him expectantly, he had to eat it. Very slowly he grabbed his knife and fork and pulled off a small piece, bringing it into his mouth and chewing. "Good, isn't it?" It was.

"So, then why am I still breathing, sitting here with you?" He swallowed his bite and continued. "Uh...w-what do you want?"

"The leash around my neck off. Lucifer has me bound to him. Some unseemly little spell. He has me where he wants, when he wants. That's why I couldn't go to you. I had to wait for you to catch up. He made me his weapon. Hurricanes, floods, raising the dead. I'm more powerful than you can process, and I'm enslaved to a bratty child with a temper tantrum." Outside a flicker of lightening lit up the little room at the same time a clap of thunder boomed overhead.

"And you think...I can unbind you?

"There's your ridiculous bravado again. Of course you can't." Dean furrowed his brow, perplexed. "But you _can_ help me take the bullets out of Lucifer's gun. I understand you want this." Death gently placed his silverware on his plate and leaned forward, lifting up his right hand to show off the square white ring on his finger.

Dean looked at the ring and back at Death, narrowing his eyes. "Yeah?"

"I'm inclined to give it to you."

"To give it to me?"

"That's what I said."

 _What the hell?_ Dean thought to himself. _What is he playing at?_ "But what about Chicago?"

"I suppose it can stay. I like the pizza." Death slipped his ring off and held it between his fingers. "There are conditions."

"Okay. Like?"

"You have to do whatever it takes to put Lucifer in his cell."

"That's the plan."

"No, no plan. Not yet. Your brother. He's the one that can stop Lucifer. The only one."

"But-"

"You knew it would come down to this. He's been talking it over with Bobby, saying yes to Lucifer in order to get him back in the cage."

Dean sputtered. "He- _what_?"

"Yes, while you've been gallivanting with the angel, he's been productive." Dean reddened and stared at Death slack-jawed.

"You know-"

Death nodded, his expression one of boredom. "Yes, I know. Now, I need a promise. You're going to let your brother jump right into that fiery pit." He offered the ring out across the red checkered tablecloth. "Do I have your word?"

Dean sat there, dumbfounded, unsure what to do. On the one hand, he had to stop the apocalypse and in order to do that he needed the ring, but on the other he didn't know if he could go on without Sammy. Sure, he'd been angry, but that was brotherly stuff, stuff that faded. He wasn't even angry anymore, not really. But this, this was too much. In the end though, Dean knew there was only one thing he could do. "Okay, yeah. Yes." He said finally, holding his hand out.

"That had better be 'yes,' Dean. You know you can't cheat death." Lightening flashed ominously, lighting up Death's face. He dropped the cold steel into Dean's outstretched hand, and it felt like the weight of the world had just been dropped in his lap. "Now, would you like the instruction manual?" Dean retracted his hand and placed the ring in his breast pocket, nodding slowly at Death. Outside the rain stopped, and the skies cleared as the people of Chicago started stepping out of their homes, wondering what was going on with the weather.

* * *

Dean stood in the garage outside of Bobby's house, lipping a cold beer and staring at the ground. He felt as though the rug that was his world had just been ripped out from beneath him. He was going to lose Sam. He was going to lose his own brother and he hadn't even known. He'd been too busy with his own selfish thoughts and his own selfish life to even know what Sam had been planning. He looked up as a pair of shoes entered his line of sight.

"Bobby..?!" He said incredulously looking up at the tall body of the hunter. Bobby was standing, and suddenly Dean could fly. Without thinking he stepped forward and pulled Bobby into a hug.

"That's enough boy." Dean relinquished the old hunter and stepped back, grinning. "I'm tired. I was up and down the stairs all night last night just because I _could."_

"But B-Bobby… How?!" Dean spluttered gesturing wildly toward Bobby's legs. Bobby grimaced and rubbed the back of his neck thoughtfully.

"It was Crowley." He said quietly, so quietly Dean had to lean in to hear him.

"Crowley? But why would he…?"

Bobby shook his head and waved dismissively. "Something about my soul or whatever." He shook his head and looked up at Dean. "I heard you met with Death, how'd that go?"

It was Dean's turn to rub the back of his neck as he stared intently at the dirt at his feet. "What do you think Death does to people who lie to his face?" Bobby regarded Dean uneasily.

"Nothing good… Why?"

"I promised to let Satan ride shotgun while Sam jumped in the pit."

"Oh, that."

"Yeah Bobby, that." Dean bit out, he felt hotness in his eyes and promptly looked away. "Why didn't you tell me man?"

"Don't come at me like that. You've been busy with your own crap lately."

"Bobby…" Dean said, looking back at the weathered hunter. Bobby put his hands up and Dean quieted.

"Look, I'm not saying Sam ain't an ass-full of character defects. But..."

Dean stared at Bobby incredulously. "But what?"

"Back at Niveus? I watched that kid pull one civilian out after another. Must have saved 10 people, never stopped, never slowed down. We're hard on him Dean, we've always been, but in the meantime he's been running into burning buildings since he was, what, 12?"

Dean shrugged and nodded reluctantly. "Pretty much."

"Look, Sam's got a... Darkness in him. I'm not saying he don't. But he's got a hell of a lot of good in him, too."

"I know."

"Then you know Sam will beat the devil...Or die trying. That's the best we could ask for. So I got to ask, Dean. What exactly are you afraid of? Losing? Or losing your brother?"

"Bobby, I-" Dean started to say, but he knew the weathered old hunter was right. Bobby was always right. He looked down at his feet again getting lost in the silence.

"And as far as all that went with Cas, he was just trying to do the right thing, Dean. Everyone knows you can be a stubborn ass sometimes." Dean looked up, wide-eyed. Bobby nodded, seemingly reading his thoughts. "Yeah, I know all about that, he told me." Dean sighed and looked down again, of course Bobby knew. He drank from his beer and sighed.

"Have you seen him?"

"Who, Cas?"

"Yeah." Dean nodded wearily, looking up through his lashes.

"Not since yesterday." He shrugged and narrowed his eyes at Dean, but didn't ask further. Dean nodded slowly and stood up straight from where he was leaning against the work bench in the garage, he pushed past Bobby and made his way up to the house. He looked around himself at the rows and rows of cars in the dirt yard, up at the dingy house with the weathered shutters and chipping paint and he sighed to himself. This time next week everything would be different, and he knew he wasn't okay with it, he wasn't even sure if he could handle it, but he knew he had to live through it. He reached over and pulled the screen door open and stepped inside, immediately finding Sam, who was propped up against the counter in the kitchen.

"Hey." He called, catching Sam's attention. The younger Winchester smiled as Dean came in to lean against the counter with him.

"Hey."

Dean leaned over and pulled a beer out of the fridge, handing it over to Sam who looked over at him quizzically. "I'm in." He said softly, rinsing the fowl tasting words out of his mouth with his drink.

"In with..?"

"The whole 'up with Satan' thing. I'm in."

Realization washed over Sam and he looked at the far wall, taking a drink. "You know, I never thought I'd hear you say that."

"Me either," Dean replied honestly and sighed. "The thing is you're a grown – well, overgrown –" He smiled sadly at the bitch face Sam pulled at his choice of words. "man, and I can't tell you not to do it. I'm not gonna lie to you, it goes against every fiber of my being. My whole life I've looked after you, it's what I do, it's – i-it's who I _am_." Sam swiveled his head around to look at his brother, and Dean took another large gulp. "But I know, if anyone can do it, it's you." He turned to look Sam right in the eyes. "And if this… Is this what you really want to do?"

"Yeah Dean, it is. I let him out, I've got to put him back in." Sam looked down, pulling at a thread in his shirt.

"Okay," Dean said finally. "That's it then." He said sadly.

"Look Dean, there's something I've got to talk to you about." Sam said after a beat.

"What?"

"You know that, once I go in that box, I'm in there for good. I'm not coming back."

Dean swallowed against his constricting throat. "Yeah, I'm aware."

"You got to promise me something."

"Okay, yeah. Anything."

"Promise me you won't try to bring me back."

"No, no no no no." Dean stepped forward and spun to face Sam, carding a hand through his hair. "No, I did not sign up for that."

"Dean-" Sam said, but Dean cut him off.

"You going down there is going to make my tour look like Graceland! You expect me to just sit around while you go through that?" He shook his head vehemently and threw his hands to the sides, almost losing his grip on his beer. He could feel the familiar prickling sensation of tears behind his lids and _damn it_ _when did he turn into such a girl_?

"Once I jump in there Dean you can't go poking at it, it's too risky." Sam looked down at his brother softly. Dean deflated.

"Don't ask me to do this man."

"I'm sorry, I have to."

"Then what the hell am I supposed to do?" He begged. He stepped toward the trash can and tossed his half empty bottle in it before finding a chair and sitting down, putting his head in his hands.

"What you're going to do," Sam began gently, coming to kneel by where Dean was sat. "is you're going to _get over yourself_." Dean looked up, confused by Sam's change of tone. "You're going to tell Cas that you're head over heels for him. You're going to tell him that you can't live without him, okay? Then, you're going to go have nasty gay sex with him in every filthy motel you can find while you're out hunting together. Because we all know it's what you're best at, and I don't want you to go alone." Sam brought his hand up to rest on Dean's shoulder. "Promise me." He finished quietly.

"I-" Dean began, but he couldn't finish. He pulled his stupid brother in for a tight hug, ignoring Sam's undignified 'oomf'. How was he supposed to promise that when he didn't even know where Cas was? He didn't even know if the angel ever wanted to see him again or if he could be forgiven. In the end though, Sam didn't need to know this, and instead of voicing any of his thoughts he nodded vigorously into Sam's shoulder vaguely aware of the hot tears spilling out of his eyes. "I promise Sammy." He said finally into Sam's shirt. "I promise."


	20. Swan Song

"Okay, I got a few things." Dean and Sam looked up from where they sat in the living room, each from their respective newspaper to look at Bobby. "Cyclone in Florida, temperature drop in Detroit, wildfires in L.A." Dean nodded thoughtfully.

"What about Detroit?"

"Temps dropped twenty degrees, but only in a five block radius of Motown."

"That's it," Dean said, trying to ignore the sinking feeling in his stomach. He stood up and nodded at Sam while pulling on his jacket. "Devil's in Detroit." He pulled his boots on, lacing them up quickly.

"You sure?" Bobby questioned. "As far as omens go that's a little light in the loafers."

"Yeah, I'm sure. Come on Sam." Dean stood up and pulled his keys out of his jacket, tossing them up and catching them out of the air absentmindedly.

"Hang on, I'm coming too." Bobby said, standing.

"No," Dean said quickly, glancing over his shoulder at him. "You've gotta stay here Bobby." _In case Cas comes back._ He added mentally. Bobby nodded and Dean turned to glance at Sam before stepping out the front door. They got in the car, started her up, and left for Detroit.

* * *

Dean sat in the Impala, alone and without the horsemen's rings. He was halfway between Detroit and South Dakota, in the parking lot of a rundown building off the highway. _Why the hell did he think Sam could hold off the_ Devil?! He punched the steering wheel and screamed in frustration, almost deafening himself in the tiny enclosed space. " ** _GOD DAMN IT!_** " He dropped his head in his hands and, for the first time in who knew how long, cried great moaning sobs into his palms. Hey, if you couldn't break down at the end of the world, when could you? His whole body shook as he finally let out all the stress he had been carrying over everything that had happened the past couple months. He had the whole world, and he just lost it. First he lost Cas, and got him back, only to lose him again. He had put his relationship with Sam on the line, and when things were finally getting better he lost him too. He balled his hands into fists and rubbed his eyes vigorously, scoffing at the wetness coating them. To his right, his phone started ringing on the seat. He took a deep breath and pulled the object toward him, seeing the flashing 'BOBBY' on the screen, indicating who was calling. He threw his phone back on the seat and took another deep breath, trying to quell the hitch in his breathing. He wiped his eyes and swallowed, trying to soothe the rawness in his throat. His phone silenced and after a moment made the notification sound informing him he had a voicemail. He stared through the windshield at the stars over the tree line. "What do I do now?" He whispered gruffly and rested his head on the steering wheel, feeling more helpless than he had ever felt in his life. Suddenly, he sat up, a half-cocked idea forming in his head, and he pulled his phone off the seat, flipping it open and going through the contacts. He found who he was looking for and hit the green phone button before putting the phone to his ear.

"Mistress Magda?" Said the man on the other end of the line.

"Who's Mistress Magda?" Dean asked.

"What? No one, a close friend."

"Yeah, I bet. Real close."

"Okay, why'd you call?"

"Sam said yes." Dean said after a moment, closing his eyes and leaning his head back.

"I know. I saw it. I'm just working on the pages."

"Did you see where the title fight goes down?"

"The angels are keeping it top secret, very hush-hush."

"Aw, crap." _Well,_ Dean thought, _there went that idea._

"But I saw it anyway." Dean sat up, listening attentively. "Perks of being a prophet. It's tomorrow, high noon. Place called Stull Cemetery."

"Stull Ceme- Wait. I know that. That's-that's an old boneyard outside of Lawrence. Why Lawrence?"

"I don't know. It all has to end where it started, I guess."

"All right. Thanks, Chuck." He pulled the phone from his ear and stared at the screen after ending the call, he thought about calling Bobby, but decided against it. Instead his thumbs moved swiftly over the keys as he sent the man a text instead. 'High noon tomorrow. Lawrence. Stull Cemetery. Sorry.' He flipped his phone shut and tossed it on the seat, keying the engine and listening to her roar into life. He hit the gas and glanced down at the clock. If he pushed, he'd make it there in time. He might have screwed up a lot of things lately, and he might not be able to stop it, but he was not going to let his brother die alone. His phone rang again, but he ignored it, focusing instead on the black asphalt stretching in front of him as he sped down the highway toward his hometown, in one last ditch attempt to thwart the apocalypse.

* * *

Dean grabbed his Def Leppard tape and shoved it in the deck, cranking up the volume until the knob stopped moving. He pulled up to the middle of the graveyard, the sun shining brightly overhead. He had driven all night in a grim determination to save his brother, disregarding his phone each time it rang. He pulled up to a stop as soon as he saw his brother and his other 'brother' standing in an empty patch of grass. He looked out of the car and smiled widely at the two men. "Sorry, am I interrupting something?" He turned off the engine and stepped out and closed the door, walking around the front of the car looking directly at the person that used to be Sam. "I need to talk to you."

"Dean, even for you, this is a whole new mountain of stupid."

"I'm not talking to you. I'm talking to Sam."

What was now Michael in and Adam suit stepped forward. "You are no longer the vessel Dean, you have no right to be here."

"Adam, if you're in there, I'm so sorry."

"Adam isn't home right now." Michael smirked.

"Then you're next on my list, buttercup, but right now I need five minutes with him." He pointed toward Lucifer, swiveling his eyes to his 'brother'.

"You little maggot, you are no longer part of this story!" Adam advanced on him, but before he could take two steps, everyone's attention was pulled off to the side of the field where two people had come to join them. Dean's heart sank.

"Hey Ass-butt!" Castiel called from where he stood in front of Bobby, he was holding something in his hand, a bottle with a wick, a Molotov cocktail, Dean realized. Their eyes met briefly before Cas threw the cocktail at Adam and he burst into flames, screaming bloody Mary. Dean stared at Cas, slack-jawed. He had been hoping he was just imagining things, that they weren't really here, but as he stared at the space that was distinctly lacking Michael, he knew he wasn't imagining anything. He wanted to scream at Cas, tell him to run, threaten him for being so stupid, remind him that he was human and could die and Dean could _not_ deal with that right now. But instead he just gaped at the stupid, heroic man in the trenchcoat.

"Ass-butt?" He managed to croak out, unable to say anything else.

"He'll be back, and he'll be angry," Cas looked at Dean fiercely. "But you've got your five minutes."

"Cas…" Dean whispered under his breath, but his attention was quickly whipped back to Lucifer who was advancing toward the former angel.

"Did you just Molotov my brother?" He asked menacingly and Castiel shrank back, mumbling something. Dean stepped forward, unsure what he was doing. "Nobody dicks with Michael, but me." Lucifer brought his hand up and snapped. Dean felt the wind rush out of his lungs and he stumbled backward looking at the chunky, red, soup that used to be his angel. He couldn't say anything, couldn't do anything, and he couldn't tear his eyes away. _I know. All I said was I know._ He thought desperately, _And now it's too late._ He looked back at Lucifer, wide-eyed and angry. Before his brain had fully decided what he was doing, he rushed forward, intending to do what, he didn't know, but he was stopped when Lucifer came forward and grabbed his jacket, picking him up and throwing him on the hood of the Impala as though he weighed nothing more than a feather. He felt his back crack and tried to breathe in, only to find that he couldn't. He struggled for breath, as his vision clouded with stars.

"Sammy." He called out weakly, hearing two shots ring out in the field. Lucifer looked away, his attention diverted for a moment to Bobby who shrugged and dropped the gun he was holding. Lucifer brought his hand up and twisted, a loud crack resonated through the still air as Bobby's head twisted at an unnatural angle and he fell to the ground in a heap.

"NOOO!" Dean yelled. Lucifer turned his attention back to him.

"Yes." He said, pulling Dean's legs off the hood. Dean felt his bones crunch as Lucifer punched him square in the jaw, causing him to spin and hold onto the roof of his car, spitting blood. He took a breath and turned to face his brother.

"Sammy, are you in there?"

"Oh, he's in here alright." Blinding pain as another punch landed on Dean's face. "And he's going to feel the snap of your bones." Dean's vision clouded as his head rocketed back with the force of another hit. He couldn't hold himself up anymore and he crumpled. "Every single one of them." Before he could even hit the ground he was pulled upward by his jacket. He looked blearily into his brother's face that was not his own. "We're going to take our time." Another hit, and another, and another. It felt like every bone in Dean's face was turning to mush, crunching into little bits inside his face. One eye had swollen up and completely shut, several of his teeth had lodged in his cheek and everything was bleeding.

"Sam." He croaked through the blood in his throat. "It's okay. It's okay. I'm here. I'm not gonna leave you." Another punch, crumbling his eye socket, and another, shattering his cheek bone. "I'm not gonna leave you." He whispered, wishing he could just die. There was only one thing left, and that was Sam. Everything was gone. Everything was ending. And Dean could barely think through the pain in his face. He was sure he was going to die, he was sure his brain was probably knocked loose, but it didn't matter. Nothing mattered, everything was gone. Lucifer pulled back again, balling his bloody hand into a fist, when he just stopped, seemingly frozen. _Do it._ Dean begged, unable to actually say the words. _Please just do it._ But he didn't. After a moment of waiting in suspense, his hand loosened and he stepped back, relinquishing his hold on Dean, who slid down the car to the ground. Dean stared up at the Devil who was wearing his brother.

"It's okay, Dean." Sam said. "It's gonna be okay, I've got him." _No._ Dean thought as he watched Sam pull the rings out of his pocket. He threw them on the ground and said the incantation; suddenly there was a gaping hole in the ground. He turned his back to it and threw his arms wide, Michael was back, and he shouted something then ran toward Sam and grabbed him. Sam opened his eyes and grabbed Michael, falling back and pulling them both into the gaping hole. With a flash of lightening the ground closed up and Dean's whole life was gone. He crawled toward where the horsemen rings lay on the ground and knelt, silently weeping for his lost brother. _No Sammy,_ he thought, _nothing's going to be okay._


	21. The End

Dean sat on the warm grass of the cemetery where he had lost everything. The sharp pain in his face had dulled to a throb, and his legs had long since fallen asleep. He continued to stare at the four interlocking rings that lay in the overgrown field, not quite knowing what to do with himself, with his life, so he sat in the boneyard, watching the shadows grow longer with each passing moment. He felt at home in the cemetery among the dead as he lamented what he had lost. He'd never again be able to share a beer with the only real father figure he had ever had. He would never again go hunt some evil monster with his brother, never laugh with him over stupid pranks and childish jokes. He'd never be able to look at or touch Castiel the angel. He let out a sad choking sound, his throat constricting painfully as his heart clenched. His eyes, however, remained dry; he had long since dried his tears out. _Cas_ , he thought to himself – although he knew his angel wouldn't hear him, _what the hell am I going to do without you? I made a promise…_ Suddenly, he felt a warmth spread over his back, the hairs on the back of his neck stood at attention, and his skin erupted in goosebumps. Without really understanding _how_ he knew, he could tell that he was not alone in the cemetery. He looked to his left, only barely able to make anything out of the blur due to his badly swollen eyes, but he would recognize that shade of tan anywhere.

"Cas?" He asked incredulously, looking skyward to try and see the face that matched the name. "You're _alive_?" He choked out, the pain of renewed tears blurring his vision more. He knew he must have lost it, he was crazy that was it, there was no way Cas was alive, he had just watched him get _mulched_. At the same time, he didn't care. Cas was back, even if it wasn't actually Cas, he got to look at him one last time, and amidst all the hopeless devastation Dean was going through, he knew it was something he needed, even though it wasn't possible.

"Better than that." The not-Castiel responded and Dean felt a light pressure on his forehead that spread behind his eyes and over every inch of bone under his face and he felt them snap back into the places they should never have been moved from in the span of a second, then it was gone. There was no pain, and his eyes were fully open. He drank in the sight of the disheveled angel, feeling a thrum of energy in the air as well as under his own skin, although the latter was fading quickly. He stood to meet the man before him at eye level as he felt the lingering pain in his face as well as his heart dissipate. He wasn't crazy, Castiel was _back._

The renewed angel gave him a half smile and Dean couldn't handle it anymore, he had promised after all. Before he could think better of it he pulled the angel close, pressing their mouths together and earning a muffled 'oomf' from Cas. The kiss was soft, tender and warm. Dean drew in a shaky breath of relief, relishing the scent of his angel, something he could only describe as morning dew, aftershave, and the musty smell of concrete after the rain. He brought his hand up the cradle the back of Cas' head, tilting his head to the side to slot their mouths together more firmly. He circled his other hand around Cas' waist, pulling them flush together. He could feel his own heartbeat accelerate, only barely matched by Cas's; that thrum of energy he had felt escalated until he could practically hear crackling static in the air around them. Cas brought his hands down to rest on Dean's upper arms from where they had been hovering uncertainly in the air at either side of the hunter. His right hand fitting perfectly against the scar on Dean's left shoulder, causing something undiscernible to flare deep in Dean's belly and he shuddered, taking a deep breath and finally pulling away from the kiss.

After a moment he opened his eyes to look at Castiel, who was regarding him with an expression Dean could only describe as guarded confusion, his pink lips parted slightly, his eyes wide, and his head tilted as though he was asking a silent question. Dean smiled at the shorter man, staring into that deep celestial blue he had seen so often in his dreams, that dark shade of power that he had come to memorize.

"Dean..?" Cas tilted his head to the side, finally going to ask the unspoken question, but Dean interrupted.

"I need you to just shut up and listen Cas, okay? Because there are some things I need to say, and I just need to say them." Cas nodded minutely, dropping his hands from Dean's shoulders to grab loosely at the fabric covering his forearms. Dean brushed his thumb slowly over the soft hairs at the base of Cas' skull. "I'm sorry, for everything. I used you and threw you away, and I'm sorry about the other night, and I'm sorry I never said it back because I…" He looked up at the darkening sky overhead. It was getting late. He breathed deeply and blinked the tears away before looking back into Cas' cautious eyes. "But look, you need to stop leaving okay? Because I've lost you too damn many times in the last month and I just can't take it anymore. I can't lose you again because I need you with me."

"Dean-"

"I'm not done. You drive me so crazy. I hate that stupid head tilt thing you do, I hate how you look at me like you're staring into my friggin' soul, I hate how you're as stupid and self-sacrificing as I am. Most of all I _hate_ how you went and told me you loved me because that turned something simple into something so complicated it made me crazy. I was so scared of this – whatever - we have, and I'm so sorry for doing everything that I did to you. Truth is Cas, I lo-" He stopped and cleared his throat, his mouth pressing into a hard line and his brow furrowing. "I _need_ you Castiel. A-a-and I care about you okay? Probably more than I should…" He trailed off, finally looking away from Cas's intense scrutiny.

"Dean, are you trying to tell me that you love me?" Castiel asked slowly, squinting his eyes at the hunter. Dean looked back up, opening his mouth and shutting it a few times like a fish out of water.

"I.." Dean trailed off, looking away for a moment before looking back up. His face pulled together in determination and he pulled Cas' head forward slightly, leaning forward to press their foreheads together. "Look for yourself." He said, his eyes sliding closed so he could concentrate. He thought of the time Castiel had shown up in his fishing dream, and how the scenery had brightened while the angel was there and darkened after he left. He thought of the moment he was brought back from the future, and the relief he felt at seeing that Cas was the same. He thought of all the times he had 'secretly' watched the angel, letting his gaze linger a bit longer than was necessary and maybe even acceptable. He thought of how scared and elated he was when Castiel had uttered those three little words that meant so much. He thought about how he had slowly begun to refer to the angel as _his,_ if only in his head. He thought of how he had given himself to the angel in a way he had never thought he would. He thought of the pain of separation he felt, and how regretful he was for being such an ass. He thought of every touch, every word, every breath, every thought of unrelenting attraction, affection, adoration, and _love_ he had ever felt for this man and he hoped the angel got the message. At first there was nothing, he only felt exhausted. Then, like a fire springing to life, the darkness behind his eyes lit up with a bright white light, flooding his head and all of his thoughts. The light resonated through his body, leaving behind what Dean could only think was happiness, warmth, love and such intense, desperate _longing_. Every emotion Dean had just sent to the angel, he reciprocated tenfold, leaving Dean gasping as his knees buckled. The light dimmed and Dean opened his eyes to see Castiel staring at him, smiling slightly, his eyes glowing bright blue before fading back to their natural color. "I-is that how you've been feeling?" He asked softly, his voice rough. Cas nodded and Dean leaned forward, pressing his lips once again against the chapped ones of his angel. He pulled back minutely. "I'm so sorry." He whispered, feeling slightly dismayed as Castiel took a step back, breaking the contact between them, causing Dean's arms to fall limply by his sides.

"I'll make you a deal." Castiel said, walking over to where Bobby's lifeless body lay. Dean nodded, watching his every move. "I'll stop leaving if you stop apologizing." He reached forward and placed two fingers on Bobby's forehead. The old hunter gasped and opened his eyes, bolting upright. Dean walked forward to the other two men, offering his hand down to Bobby and pulling him to his feet without looking away from Cas.

"Deal." Dean replied, a half smile pulling at his lips. Bobby looked between the two men he was standing in the middle of and shook his head before walking to the impala parked in the grass, mumbling something about 'idjits' and 'love-birds'. Dean took a step forward before turning around to look at the area of grass where his brother had disappeared into. _I promised, didn't I?_ He thought sadly, a soft weight landed on his shoulder and he allowed himself to be maneuvered to the impala by his angel. _I kept my promise._


	22. Epilogue

Dean cracked his eyes open as early morning light shone in through the crack in the curtains and directly onto his lids. He frowned and rolled over on the queen sized motel bed grumbling to himself before almost falling back asleep on the other pillow. It was then he realized something was wrong, his eyes shot open and he sat up.

"Cas?" He called, looking around. It had been about three weeks since that day in the cemetery and since then he and Cas hunted down two ghost and put them to rest. He found that they worked well together, not that he didn't already know that, but he thought it would be more difficult to get into the swing of things since Castiel wasn't actually a _hunter_. But, after the first case they had established an order in which things should go, and they found that they were a good offset to each other. Things had been going as well as they could, between research and hunting, stolen kisses and long, passionate nights Dean had been happier in the last three weeks than he had been in a long time; except for the nightmares. He had been having more and more nightmares lately of Lucifer flaying his brother deep in the dark depths of Hell where they were trapped in the cage, and Cas had been relieving every one with a gentle press of his fingertips and a soft kiss on the lips. Even though the angel didn't need sleep, he would still lie in bed with Dean and watch over him, which is what made Dean anxious when he pressed his hand down and found that the other side of the bed was cold.

"Cas?!"

Dean stumbled out of bed, kicking off the sheets that had worked their way between his legs and walked around the motel room, poking his head in the bathroom and outside and not finding a trace of the angel. Anxious and annoyed, Dean pulled on his jeans, shirt, socks, and boots; he slipped Ruby's knife into his belt and made his way to the door doing one last sweep of the room to make sure no disheveled angels had appeared since he last looked. When nothing stuck out at him as out of the ordinary he moved to the front door and pulled it open, stumbling back at the monstrous frame in the doorway. Quickly, he grabbed his holy water and threw it at the man, who then smiled and wiped the wetness off his face.

"Hey Dean."

"But, no. H-how can you..?" Dean stepped back again and pulled the knife out, readying himself for a fight and shaking his head vehemently. "No, it can't be you." Before he could lunge forward the figure held his arms out in front of him in a pacifying gesture, he pulled a knife out of his own belt - Dean recognized it as the pure silver one he kept in his trunk - and ran it across his forearm, drawing blood. Dean deflated and dropped his arms by his sides. "Sammy?" He stepped forward and pulled his little brother into his arms, hugging him tightly. "But how did you…?" The question died on his lips when he opened his eyes and saw, standing a few feet behind Sam, his dorky, half-smiling angel.

"Happy birthday Dean."

Sam pulled away from Dean and smiled before pushing past him into the motel room. Dean walked out onto the side walk. "Cas, how did you..?" But before he could finish his sentence, Cas raised his hand.

"It is not of import." He looked up at Dean through his lashes and Dean chuckled softly. He closed the distance between them and pulled Castiel against his body, resting his head in the crook of his neck.

"Thank you." He whispered and Cas pulled him tighter and whispered back.

"I will do anything for you Dean." Dean smiled against his skin, knowing deep down that it was true and reciprocal.

"I will _not_ get used to that!" Sam exclaimed, appearing the doorway. Dean pulled away from Cas, his arms resting loosely against his angel's waist. "I'm just uh-" He pointed to the main office of the motel. "I'm just going to get my own room, okay?" He made an exaggerated grossed out face, looking between the two of them, before continuing. "Maybe on the other side of the motel."

"Bitch!" Dean called after him as he started walking away.

"Jerk!" Sam shouted back over his shoulder and Dean grinned. He leaned forward once again and kissed Castiel softly before pulling back.

"So," He began, fingering the knot in the backwards tie. "Do I get anything _else_ for my birthday?" He raised his eyebrows and grinned suggestively. Cas quickly got the hint and pushed him backward into the motel room, closing the door and locking it behind him. As he pushed Dean back on the bed and began undressing him, Dean couldn't help but think that he was one seriously lucky guy. That is, right before a loud knock sounded at the door and Sam's muffled voice filtered through it.

"Guys, the only room left shares a wall with yours so, uh, keep it down okay?"

Dean grinned mischievously and pulled Cas down on top of him, crushing their mouths together once again and letting out a loud moan. _Yeah,_ he thought as Sam banged on the wall, _things were going to be okay._


End file.
